Xu  C-     :6  6  ^^■-    ^  "f  ' 


Tlin  ACORN  SERIES. 


The  Red  Acorn; 


A    NOVEL 


By  JOHN  Mcelroy, 

AUTHOR    OF    "UfDIBeONTlLLK,"  yxa 


CHICAGO  : 
HENRY    A.    SUMNER    &    COMPANY 

1883. 


COPTRIOHT. 

1883. 

HEXRY    A.    SUMNKR    &    CO. 


PREFACE. 

THE  name  given  this  story  is  that  made  glorious  by 
the  valor  and  achievements  of  the  splendid  First 
Division  of  the  Fourteenth  Army  Corps,  the  cognizance 
of  which  was  a  crimson  acorn,  worn  on  the  breasts  of 
its  gallant  soldiers,  and  borne  upon  their  battle  flags. 
There  are  few  gatherings  of  men  into  which  one  can  go 
to-day  without  finding  some  one  wearing,  as  his  most 
cherished  ornament,  a  red  acorn,  frequently  wrought  in 
gold  and  studded  with  precious  stones,  and  which  tells 
that  its  wearer  is  a  veteran  of  Mill  Springs,  Perryville, 
Shiloh,  Corinth,  Stone  River,  Chicamauga,  Mission 
Ridge,  Atlanta,  Jonesville,  March  to  the  Sea,  and  Ben- 
tonville. 

The  Fourteenth  Corps  was  the  heart  of  the  grand 
old  Army  of  the  Cumberland  —  an  army  that  never 
knew  defeat.  Its  nucleus  was  a  few  scattered  regi- 
ments in  Eastern  Kentucky,  in  1861,  which  had  the 
good  fortune  to  be  commanded  by  Gen.  George  H. 
Thomas.  With  them  he  won  the  first  real  victory  that 
blessed  our  arms.  It  grew  as  he  grew,  and  under  his 
superb  leadership  it  was  shaped  and  welded  and  tem- 
pered into  one  of  the  mightiest  military  weapons  the 
world  ever  saw.     With  it  Thomas  wrung  victory  from 

603(125 


Q  PREFACE. 

defeat  on  the  bloody  fields  of  Stone  River  and  Chica- 
mauga  ;  with  it  he  dealt  the  final  crushing  blow  of  the 
Atlanta  campaign,  and  with  it  defeat  was  again  turned 
to  victory  at  Bentonville. 

The  characters  introduced  into  the  story  all  belonged 
to  or  co-operated  with  the  First  Division  of  the  Four- 
teenth Corps.  The  Corps'  badge  was  lUr  Acorn.  As 
was  the  custom  in  the  army,  the  divisions  in  each  Coqis 
were  distinguished  by  the  color  of  the  badges  —  the 
First's  being  red,  the  Second's  white,  and  the  Third's 
blue.  There  was  a  time  when  this  explanation  was 
hardly  necessary,  but  now  eighteen  years  have  elapsed 
since  the  Acorn  flags  fluttered  victoriously  over  the  last 
field  of  battle,  and  a  generation  has  grown  up  to  which 
they  are  but  a  tradition  •'  •  ^' 


CONTENTS. 


CnAPTEn  I.— A  Diclftrntion,  .  .  .  . 

Chapter  II.— First  SboU,  .... 

CnAmcR  III.— A  Kace,  .  .  .  .  . 

Co  AFTER  IV. — Di.Hjfrace,  .... 

Cii.vPTER  v.— The  Llnt-8craping    and    iiumlHi,'i-  iimkinp 
Union.  .  .  .  .  . 

Chapter  VI —The  Awakening, 

CuAiTER  VII. — Pomp  and  C'ircuin.Htancc  of  Glorioiw  War, 

Chapter  VIII.— The  Tetlium  of  Camp, 

COAiTER  IX.— On  Ihe  March,  .  .  .  . 

Chapter  X.— The  Mountaineer *b  Hevengc, 

''mapt>:r  XI— Through  the  Mountain  and  the  Night, 

MAPTER  XII.— Aunt  Debl)y  Brill. 

Chapter  XIII —An  Apple  Jack  Itaid. 

Chaiter  XIV.— In  Uio  iloHpital, 

Chapter  XV.  — Making  Arquaintancc  with  Duty, 

Chapter  XVI.— The  Ambuscade, 

Chapter  XVII  — Alspaugh  on  a  IJcd  of  Pain,- 

Chapter  XVIII.— Secret  Service, 

Chapter  XIX— The  Battle  of  Stone  Wve& 


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http://www.archive.org/details/redacornnovelsOOmcel 


THE    RED    ACORN. 


CHAPTER  I. 


A     DECLARATION. 

'  O,  what  U  •©  rare  a*  a  day  In  June? 
Then,  If  ever,  come  perfect  dayt; 
Then  Heaven  tries  the  Earth  If  It  be  In   une, 
And  over  It  softly  her  warm  ear  lays." 

— LOWULL. 


/~\F  all  human  teachers  they  were  the  grandest  who 
Vy  gave  us  the  New  Testament,  and  made  it  a  tex^ 
book  for  Man  in  every  age.  Transcendent  benefac- 
tors of  the  race,  they  opened  in  it  a  never-failing 
well-spring  of  the  sweet  waters  of  Consolation  and 
Hope,  which  have  flowed  over,  fertilized,  and  made 
blossom  as  a  rose  the  twenty-century  wide  desert  of 
the  ills  of  human  existence. 

But  they  were  not  poets,  as  most  of  the  authors 
of  the  Old  Testament  were. 

They  were  too  much  in  earnest  in  their  great  work 
of  carrying  the  glad  evangel  of  Redemption  to  all  the 
earth  —  they  so  burned  with  eagerness  to  pour  their 
joyful  tidings  into  every  ear,  that  they  recked  little 
of  the  form  in  which  the  saving  intelligence  was  con- 
veyed. 

Had  they  been  poets  would  they  have  conceived 
Heaven  as  a  place  with  foundations  of  jasper,  sap- 


10  THE   RED   ACORN. 

phires  and  emeralds,  gales  of  pearl,  and  streets  of 
burnished  gold  that  shone  like  glass  ?     Never. 

That  showed  them  to  he  practical  men,  of  a  Semi- 
tic cast  of  mind,  who  addressed  hearers  that  agreed 
with  them  in  regarding  gold  and  precious  stones  as 
the  finest  things  of  which  the  heart  could  dream. 

Had  they  been  such  lovers  of  God's  handiwork  in 
Nature  as  the  Greek  religious  teachers  —  who  were 
also  poets  —  they  would  have  painted  us  a  Heaven 
vaulted  by  the  soft  blue  sky  of  early  Summer,  per 
fumed  by  the  breath  of  opening  flowers,  and  made 
musical  by  the  sweet  songs  of  birds  in  the  tirst 
rapture  of  finding  their  young  mates. 

In  other  words  they  would  have  given  us  a  picture 
of  earth  on  a  perfect  June  day. 

On  the  afternoon  of  such  a  day  as  tliis  Kachel 
Bond  sat  i^enoath  an  apple-tree  at  the  crest  of  a  mod- 
erate hill,  and  looked  dreamily  away  to  where,  beyond 
the  villajre  of  Sardis  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  the  Miami 
River  marked  the  beautiful  valley  like  a  silver  ribbon 
carelessly  flung  upon  a  web  of  green  velvet.  Rather 
she  seemed  to  be  looking  there,  for  the  light  that 
usually  shone  outward  in  those  luminous  eyes  was 
turned  inward.  The  little  volume  of  poems  had 
dropped  unheeded  from  the  white  hand.  It  had  done 
its  office :  the  passion  of  its  lines  had  keyed  her 
thoughts  to  a  harmony  that  suffused  her  whole  being, 
until  all  seemed  as  naturally  a  part  of  the  glorious 
day  as  the  fleecy  clouds  in  the  sapphire  sky,  the  cheer- 
ful hum  of  the  bees,  and  the  apple-blossoms'  luxuri- 
ous scent. 

Her  love  — and,  quite  as  much,  her  girlish  ambi- 


A   DECLARATION.  11 

tion  —  had  been  crowned  with  violets  and  bays  some 
weeks  before,  when  the  fever-heat  of  patriotism 
seemed  to  bring  another  passion  in  Harry  Glen's 
bosom  to  the  eruptive  point,  and  there  came  the  long- 
waited-for  avowal  of  his  love,  which  was  made  on  the 
evening  before  his  company  departed  to  respond  to 
the  call  for  troops  which  followed  the  fall  of  Fort 
Sumter. 

Does  it  seem  harsh  to  say  that  she  had  sought  to 
bring  about  this  detioiU')iient  f  Kather,  it  seems  that 
iu'r  etforts  were  commendable.  She  was  a  young 
woman  of  marriageable  age.  She  believed  that  her 
mission  in  life  was  marriage  to  some  man  who  would 
make  her  a  good  husband,  and  whom  she  would  in 
turn  love,  honor,  and  strive  to  make  happy.  Harry 
(lien's  family  was  the  ecpial  of  her's  in  social  station, 
and  a  little  above  it  in  wealth.  To  this  he  added  ed- 
ucational and  personal  advantages  that  made  him  the 
most  desirable  match  in  Sardis.  Starting  with  the 
premises  given  above,  her  first  conclusion  was  the 
natural  one  that  she  should  marry  the  best  man  avail- 
able, and  the  ne.\f  that  that  man  was  Harry  Glen. 

Her  ctibrts  had  been  bounded  by  the  strictest  code 
of  maidenly  ethics,  and  so  artistically  developed  that 
the  only  persons  who  penetrated  their  skillful  vailing, 
and  detected  her  a.s  a  ''designing  creature,"  were  two 
or  three  maiden  friends,  whose  maneuvers  toward  the 
same  objective  were  brought  to  naught  by  her  suc- 
cess. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  refining  casuists  may  find 
room  for  censure  in  this  making  Ambition  the  advance 
guard  to  spy  out  the  ground  that  Love  is  to  occupy. 


12  THE    RED    ACORN. 

But,  after  all,  is  there  not  a  great  deal  of  mistake 
about  the  way  that  true  love  begins  ?  If  we  had  the 
data  before  us  we  should  be  pained  by  the  enlighten- 
ment that,  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases  the  regard  of 
young  people  for  each  other  is  tixed  in  the  first  in. 
stance  l)v  motives  that  will  bear  quite  as  little  scrutiny 
as  Miss  Rachel  Bond's. 

"We  can  afford  to  be  careless  how  the  germ  of  love 
is  planted.  The  main  thing  is  how  it  is  watered  and 
tended,  and  brought  to  a  lasting  and  beautiful 
growth.  Kachel's  ambition  gratified,  there  had  been 
a  steady  rise  toward  tlood  in  the  tide  of  her  affections. 
She  was  not  long  in  growing  to  love  Harry  with  all 
the  intensity  of  a  really  ardent  nature. 

After  the  meeting  at  which  Harry  had  signed  tlie 
recruiting  roll,  he  had  taken  lier  home  up  the  long, 
sloping  hill,  through  moonlight  as  st)ft,  as  inspiring, 
as  glorifying  as  that  whidi  had  melted  even  the  frosty 
Goddess  of  Maidenhood,  so  that  she  stooped  from  her 
heavenly  unapproachableness,  and  kissed  the  hand 
some  Endymion  as  he  slept. 

Though  little  and  that  connnonplace  was  said  a.s 
they  walked,  sublh^  womanly  instinct  prepared  Ra- 
ehers  mind  for  what  was  coming,  and  her  grasp  upon 
Harry's  arm  assumed  a  new  feeling  that  hurried  him 
on  to  the  crisis. 

They  stopped  beneath  the  old  apple-tree,  at  the 
crest  of  the  hill,  and  in  front  of  the  house.  Its 
gnarled  and  twisted  limbs  had  been  but  freshly 
clothed  in  a  suit  of  fragi-ant  gi-een  leaves. 

The  ruddy  bonfires,  lighted  for  the  war-meeting, 
still  burned  in  the  village  below.     The  hum  of  sup- 


A   DECIARATION.  13 

j)lementary  speeches  to  the  excited  crowds  that  still 
lingered  about  came  to  their  ears,  mingled  with  cheers 
from  throats  rapidly  growing  hoarse,  and  the  throb 
and  wail  of  fife  and  drum.  Then,  uplifted  on  the 
voices  of  hundreds  who  sang  it  as  only  men,  and  men 
swayed  b^-  powerful  emotions  can,  rose  the  ever- 
glorious  "Star-Spangled  Banner,"  loftiest  and  most 
inspiring  of  national  hymns.  Through  its  long,  force- 
ful measures,  which  have  the  sweep  and  ring  of 
marching  battalions,  swung  the  singei*s,  with  a  pas' 
.«>ionate  earnt'stness  that  made  every  note  and  word 
glow  with  meaning.  The  swelling  ptean  told  of  the 
heroism  and  sacrifice  with  which  the  fiMindations  of 
the  Nation  were  laid,  of  the  glory  to  which  the  land 
had  risen,  and  then  its  mood  changing  to  one  of  dirc- 
ness  and  wrath,  it  foretold  the  just  punishment  of 
those  who  broke  the  peace  of  a  happy  land. 

The  mood  of  the  Sardis  people  was  that  patriotic 
exaltation  which  reigned  in  every  city  and  village  of 
the  Noi1h  on  that  memorable  night  of  April,  ISeU 

But  Rachel  and  Harry  had  left  far  behind  them 
this  passion  of  the  multitude,  which  had  set  their  own 
to  throbbing,  even  as  the  roar  of  a  cannon  will  waken 
the  vibrations  of  haip-strings.  Around  where  they 
stood  was  the  peace  of  the  night  and  sleep.  The  per- 
hmie  of  violets  and  hyacinths,  and  of  myriads  of 
opening  buds  seemed  shed  by  the  moon  with  her 
silvery  rays  through  the  soft,  dewy  air;  a  few  noc- 
turnal insects  droned  hither  and  thither,  and  "  drowsy 
tinklings  'ulled  the  distant  folds." 

As  their  steps  were  arrested  Rachel  released  her 
grasp  from  Harry's   arm,   but  he  caught  her  hand 


14  THE   RED   ACORN. 

before  it  fell  to  her  side,  and  held  it  fast.  She  turned 
her  face  frankly  toward  him,  and  he  looked  down 
with  anxious  eyes  upon  the  broad  white  forehead, 
framed  in  silken  black  hair,  upon  great  eyes,  flaming 
with  a  meaning  that  he  feared  to  interpret,  upon  the 
eloquent  lines  about  the  mobile,  sensitive  mouth,  all 
now  lifted  into  almost  supernatural  beauty  by  the 
moonlight's  spiritualizing  magic. 

What  he  said  he  could  never  afterward  recall. 
His  first  memory  was  that  of  a  pause  in  his  speech, 
when  he  saw  the  ripe,  red  lips  turned  toward  him 
with  a  gesture  of  the  proud  head  that  was  both  an 
assent  and  invitation.  The  kiss  that  he  pressed  there 
thrilled  him  with  the  intoxication  of  unexpectedly  re- 
warded love,  and  Riichel  with  the  gladness  of  tri- 
umph. 

What  they  afterward  said  was  as  incoherent  as 
the  conversations  of  those  rapturous  moments  ever 
are. 

"You  know  we  leave  in  the  morning?"  he  said, 
when  at  last  it  became  necessary  for  him  to  go. 

"  Yes," she  answered  calmly.  "And  perhaps  it  is 
better  that  it  should  be  so  —  that  we  be  apart  for  a 
little  while  to  consider  this  new-found  happiness  and 
understand  it.  I  shall  be  sustained  with  the  thought 
that  in  giving  you  to  the  country  I  have  given  more 
than  any  one  else.  I  know  that  you  wnll  do  some- 
thing that  will  make  me  still  prouder  of  you,  and  my 
presentiments,  which  never  fail  me,  assure  me  that 
you  will  return  to  me  safely." 

His  face  showed  a  little  disappointment  with  the 


A   DECLARATION.  15 

She  reached  above  her  head,  and  breaking  off  a 
bud  handed  it  to  him,  saying  in  the  words  of  Juliet : 

"Sweet,  good-night: 
This  bud  of  love,  by  Summer's  ripening  breath, 
May  prove  a  beauteous  flower,  when  next  we  meet." 

He  kissed  the  bud,  and  put  it  in  his  bosom ;  kissed 
her  again  passionately,  and  descended  the  hill  to  pre- 
pare for  his  departure  in  the  morning. 

She  was  with  the  rest  of  the  village  at  the  depot 
to  bid  the  company  good-bye,  and  was  amazed  to  find 
how  far  the  process  of  developing  the  bud  into  the 
flower  had  gone  on  in  her  heart  since  parting  with 
her  lover.  Her  previous  partiality  and  admiration 
for  him  appeared  now  very  tame  and  colorless,  beside 
the  emotions  that  stirred  her  at  the  sight  of  him 
marching  with  erect  grace  at  the  head  of  his  company. 
But  while  all  about  her  were  tears  and  sobs,  and 
modest  girls  revealing  unsuspected  attachments  in  the 
agitation  of  parting,  her  eyes  were  undimmed.  She 
was  proud  and  serene,  a  heightening  of  the  color  in 
her  cheeks  being  the  only  5;ign  of  unusual  feeling. 
Harry  came  to  her  for  a  moment,  held  her  hand 
tightly  in  his,  took  the  bud  from  his  bosom,  touched 
it  significantly  with  his  lips,  and  sprang  upon  the 
train  which  was  beginning  to  move  away. 

The  days  that  followed  were  halcyon  for  her. 
While  the  other  women  of  Sardis,  whose  loved  ones 
were  gone,  were  bewailing  the  dangers  they  would 
encounter,  her  proud  spirit  only  contemplated  the 
chances  that   Harry  would  have   for  winning  fame. 


16  THE    RED    ACORN. 

Battles  meant  bright  laurels  for  him,  in  which  she 
would  have  a  rightful  share. 

Her  mental  food  became  the  poetry  of  love,  chiv- 
alry and  glorious  war.  The  lyric  had  a  vivid  per- 
sonal interest.  Tales  of  romantic  daring  and  achieve- 
ment were  suggestions  of  possibilities  in  Harry's 
career.  Her  waking  hours  were  mainly  spent,  book 
in  hand,  under  the  old  apple-tree  that  daily  grew 
dearer  to  her. 

The  exalted  mood  in  which  we  found  her  was 
broken  in  upon  by  the  sound  of  some  one  shutting 
the  gate  below  very  emphatically.  Looking  down 
she  saw  her  father  approaching  with  such  visible 
signs  in  face  and  demeanor  of  strong  excitement, 
that  she  arose  and  went  to  him. 

"  Why,  father,  what  can  be  the  matter  ? "  she  said, 
stopping  in  front  of  him,  with  the  open  book  pressed 
to  her  breast. 

"Matter  enough,  I'm  afraid,  Rachel.  There's 
been  a  battle  near  a  place  called  Rich  Mountain,  in 
Western  Virginia,  and  Harry  Glen's " 

"O,  father,""  she  said,  growing  very  white,  "Har- 
ry's killed." 

"  No  ;  not  killed."  The  old  man's  lip  curled  with 
scorn.  "  It's  worse.  He  seems  to've  suddenly  dis- 
covered he  wan't  prepared  to  die  ;  he  didn't  want  to 
rush  all  at  once  into  the  presence  of  his  Maker. 
Mebbe  he  didn't  think  it'd  be  good  manners.  You 
know  he  was  alwa3'8  stronger  on  etikwet  than  any- 
thing else.  In  short,  he's  showed  the  white  feather. 
A  dozen  or  more  letters  have  come  from  the  boys 
telling  all  about  it,  and  the  town's  talking  of  nothing 


A  DECLARATION.  17 

else.  There's  one  of  the  letters.  It's  from  Jake 
Alspaugh,  who  quit  working  for  me  to  enlist.  Read 
it  for  yourself. " 

The  old  gentleman  threw  the  letter  upon  the  grass, 
and  strode  on  angrily  into  the  house.  Rachel 
smoothed  out  the  crumpled  sheet,  and  read  with  a 
growing  sickness  at  the  heart: 

Mr.  Bond— Deer  Sur: 

i  taik  my  pen  in  Imnd  to  Ictt  you  no  that  with  the  exception 
of  a  occashunal  tuch  of  roomaticks.  an  boonions  all  over  my  fete 
from  hard  marchin,  ime  all  rite,  an  i  hope  you  ar  injoiu  the  saim 
blessm.  Weve  jest  h.id  an  awful  big  fite.  and  the  way  we  warmed 
it  to  the  secshers  jest  beat  the  jews,  i  doant  expect  they ve  stopt 
runnin  yit.  All  the  Sardis  boys  done  bully  except  Lieutenant 
Harry  Glen.  The  smell  of  burnt  powder  seamed  to  onsettle  his 
narves.  He  tuk  powerful  sick  all  at  wunst.  jest  as  the  trail  was 
gitlin  rather  fresh,  and  he  lay  giouuin  wen  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pany marched  oflf  into  the  fite.  He  doant  And  the  klime-it  here 
as  healthy  as  it  is  in  Sardis.  i  'stinguished  myself  and  have  bin 
promoted,  and  ive  got  a  Rebel  gun  for  you  with  a  bore  big  enuff 
to  put  a  walnut  in,  and  it'll  jest  nock  your  wiiole  darned  shoulder 
off  every  time  you  shoot  it.  No  more  yours  til  deth  send  me 
some  flnecut  tobacker  for  heavens  sake. 

Jacob  Alspaugh. 

Rachel  tore  the  letter  into  a  thousand  fragments, 
and  flung  the  volume  of  poems  into  the  ditch  below. 
She  hastened  to  her  room,  and  no  one  saw  her  again 
until  the  next  morning,  when  she  came  down  dressed 
in  somber  black,  her  face  pale,  and  her  colorless  lips 
tightly  compressed. 


18  THE    RED    ACORN. 


CHAPTER   II 


FIRST  SHOTS. 


"  Cowardt  fe»r  lo  dtc;  bat  roart4r«  Moat, 
R  Ihtr  (hftn  lire  In  tnuff.  will  be  put  out." 
— SiB  Waltkb  IlALiioa.  ox  "Tub  Sxrrr  or  a  Cajtdlb." 

ALL  niilitni y  courage  of  any  value  is  the  offspring 
of  pride  and  will.  The  existence  of  what  is 
called  "  natural  couraire  "  may  well  be  ilouhted.  What 
is  frequently  mistaken  for  it  is  either  perfect  self-com- 
mand, or  a  stolid  indifference,  arising  from  dull  lirained 
inability  to  comprehend  what  really  is  danger. 

The  first  instincts  of  man  teach  him  to  shun  all 
sources  of  harm,  and  if  his  senses  are  sufficiently  acute 
to  perceive  dan;x<?r,  his  natural  disposition  is  to  avoid 
encountering  it.  This  disposition  can  only  be  over- 
come by  the  exercise  of  the  |K>wer  of  pride  and  will 
— pride  to  aspire  to  the  accomplishment  of  certain 
tilings,  even  though  risk  attend,  ami  will  to  carry 
out  those  aspirations. 

Harry  Glen  was  apparently  not  deficient  in  either 
pride  or  will.  The  close  observer,  however,  seemed 
to  see  as  his  ma.stering  sentiment  a  certiiin  sterile  self- 
ishness, not  uncommon  among  the  youths  of  his  train- 
ing and  position  in  the  slow-living,  hum-drum  country 
towns  of  Ohio.  The  only  son  of  a  weakly-fondling 
mother  and  a  father  too  earnestly  treading  the  narrow 
path  of  early  diligences  and  small  savings  by  which  :i 


riBHT  SHOTS.  19 

man  becomes  the  richest  in  his  villafre,  to  pay  any 
attention  to  him,  Harry  grew  up  a  self-indulgent,  sclf- 
suflScient  boy.  His  course  at  the  seminary  and  college 
naturally  developed  this  into  a  snobbish  assumption 
that  he  was  of  tiner  clay  than  the  conunonally,  and  in 
some  way  selected  by  fortune  for  her  finer  displays 
and  luxurious  purposes.  I  have  termed  this  a  *'  sterile 
selfishness,"  to  distinguish  it  from  that  grand  egoism 
which  in  large  minds  is  fruitful  of  high  accomplish- 
ments and  great  deeds,  and  to  denote  a  force  which, 
in  the  sons  of  the  average  "rich"  men  of  the  county 
seats,  is  apt  to  exju-nd  itself  in  satisfaction  at  having 
finer  clothes  and  fjLster  hoi-ses  and  plcasanter  homes, 
than  the  average — in  a  pride  of  white  hands  and  a 
8Coni  of  drudgery. 

When  Harry  signed  his  name  upon  the  recruiting 
roll — largely  impelle<l  thereto  l)y  thedelicately-llattcr- 
ing  suggestion  that  he  should  lead  off  for  the  youth  of 
Sardis — he  had  not  the  slightest  misgiving  that  by  so 
doing  he  would  subjoct  himself  to  any  of  the  ills  and 
discomforts  incidental  to  carrying  out  the  enterprise 
upon  which  they  were  embarking.  He,  like  every 
one  else,  had  no  ver}'  clear  idea  of  what  the  company 
would  l)e  called  upon  to  do  or  undergo  ;  but  no  doubt 
o])trud('d  itself  into  his  mind  that  whatever  might  be 
disagn-cable  in  it  would  fall  to  some  one  else's  lot, 
and  he  continue  to  have  the  same  pleasant  exem])tion 
that  had  been  his  good  fortune  so  far  through  life. 

And  though  the  company  was  unexpectedly  ordered 
to  the  field  in  the  rugged  mountains  of  Western  Vir- 
ginia, instead  of  to  pleasant  quarters  about  Washing- 
ton, there  was  nothinsr  to  shake  this  comfortable  be- 


20  THE    RED   ACOKX. 

lief.  The  slack  discipline  of  the  first  three  months' 
service,  and  the  confusion  of  ideas  that  prevailed  in 
the  bcf^inning  of  the  war  as  to  military  duties  and 
responsibilities,  enabled  him  to  sjx'nd  all  the  time  ho 
chose  away  from  his  company  and  with  congenial 
spirits,  about  headquarters,  and  to  make  of  the  expe- 
dition, so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  a  pleasant  jiic-nic. 
Occasionally  little  shadows  were  thrown  by  the  si«:ht 
of  corpses  brouirht  in.  with  uirly  looking  bullet  holes 
in  head  or  breast,  but  these  were  always  of  the  class 
he  looked  down  upon,  and  he  c(mnected  their  bad  luck 
in  some  way  with  their  condition  in  life.  Doubtless 
some  one  had  to  fro  where  there  was  dan^rer  of  beini^ 
shot,  as  some  one  ha<l  to  diij  ditches  and  help  to  pry 
WMirons  out  of  the  mud,  but  there  wits  somcthiiiir 
rather  preposterous  in  the  thouirht  that  anvthiiiL'  of 
this  kind  was  incumbent  uixm  him. 

The  mutterings  of  the  men  against  an  ollieer,  who 
would  not  share  their  hardships  and  duties,  did  not 
reach  his  ears,  nor  yet  the  gibes  of  the  more  earnest 
of  the  officers  at  the  "young  headquarter  swells," 
whose  interest  and  zeal  were  nothing  to  what  they 
would  have  taken  in  a  fishing  excursion. 

It  came  about  very  naturally  and  very  soon  that 
this  ccmtinual  avoidance  of  dut}'  in  directions  where 
danger  might  be  encountered  was  stigmatized  b}'  the 
harsher  name  of  cowardice.  Neither  did  this  come  to 
his  knowledge,  and  he  was  consequently  ignorant  that 
he  had  delivered  a  fatal  stab  to  his  reputation  one 
fine  morning  when,  the  regiment  being  ordered  out 
with  three  days'  rations  and  forty  rounds  of  cart- 
ridges, the  sergeant  who  was  sent  in  search  of  him 


FIRST    SHOTS.  21 

returned  and  reported  that  he  was  sick  in  his  tent. 
Jacob  Alspaugh  expressed  the  conchision  instantly 
arrived  at  by  every  one  in  the  regiment  : 

"  It's  all  you  could  expect  of  one  of  thoni  kid-glove 
fellers,  to  weaken  when  it  came  to  serious  business/' 

Harry's  self  sulliciency  had  left  so  little  room  for 
anything  that  did  not  directly  concern  his  own  com- 
fort, that  he  could  not  understand  the  deadly  earnest- 
ness of  the  men  he  saw  file  out  of  camp,  or  that  there 
was  any  urgent  call  for  him  to  join  them  in  their 
undertaking. 

"Bob  Bennett's  always  going  where  there's  no 
need  of  it,"  he  said  to  a  companion,  as  he  .saw  the  last 
of  the  regiment  disappear  into  the  woods  on  the 
mountain  side.  ''He  could  have  stiiid  back  here  with 
us  just  as  well  as  not,  instead  of  trudging  off  through 
the  heat  over  these  devilish  roads,  and  pr()I)ably  get 
into  a  scrape  for  which  no  one  will  Ihank  him," 

"Yes,"  said  Xc<l  Burnh-igh,  with  his  affected 
drawl,  "  wliat  the  devil's  the  use,  I'd  like  to  know, 
for  a  fellah's  putting  liim.self  out  to  do  thing.s,  when 
there's  any  quantity  of  other  fellahs,  that  can't  be 
better  employed,  ready  and  even  anxious  to  do 
them." 

"That's  so.  But  it's  getting  awful  hot  here.  Let's 
go  over  to  tlie  shade,  where  we  were  yesterday,  and 
liavi!  Dick  bring  us  a  bucket  of  cold  spring  water  and 
the  bottles  and  thiiMjs.'' 


"Abe  !"  said  Jake  Alspaugh  to  his  file-leader — a 
red-headed,  pock-markod  man,  whose  normal  condi- 


22  THE   RED   ACORN. 

tion  was  that  of  outspoken  disgust  at  every  thing — 
"this  means  a  tight." 

"  Your  news  would  'vc  been  fresh  and  interesting 
last  night,"  gi-owled  Abe  Bolton  '*  I  supi)ose  that's 
what  we  brought  our  guns  along  for." 

"Yes  ;  but  somebody's  likely  to  get  killed." 

"  Well,  you  nor  me  don't  have  to  pay  their  life 
insurance,  as  I  know  on." 

"  But  it  may  be  you  or  me," 

"Thodevil'd  be  mighty  anxious  for  green  wood 
before  he'd  call  you  in." 

"Come,  now,  don't  talk  tliat  way.  Tiiis  is  a 
mighty  serious  time." 

••I'll  make  it  a  durned  sight  seriouser  for  yoti  if 
you  don't  keep  them  splay  feet  o'  your'n  olfon  my 
heels  when  we're  marching." 

"Don't  you  think  we'd  bettor  pray,  or— some- 
thing ?  " 

"You  might  try  taking  U})  a  eollection." 

"Try  starting  a  hymn,  Jake,"  said  a  slender 
young  man  at  his  right  elbow,  whose  face  showed  a 
color  more  intimately  coimected  with  the  contents  of 
his  canteen  than  the  heat  of  the  day.  "  Line  it  out, 
and  we'll  all  join  in.  Something  like  this,  for  exam- 
ple : 

*  Hark,  from  the  tombs  a  doleful  sound 
Mine  cars  attend  the  cry. 
Ye  living  men,  come  view  the  ground, 
Where  you  must  shortly  lie.'  " 

Alspaugh  shuddered  visibly. 

"Come,  spunk  up,  Jake,"  continued  the  slender 


FIRST   SHOTS.  23 

young  man.    "Think  how  proud  all  your  relations 
will  be  of  you,  if  you  die  for  your  country." 

"  I'm  mad  at  all  of  my  relations,  and  I  don't  want 
to  do  nothinsr  to  jilease  'em,"  sighed  Jake. 

••  But  I  hope  you're  not  so  greedy  as  to  want  to 
live  always  ?  "  said  the  slender  young  man,  who  an- 
swered roll-call  to  Kent  Edwards. 

"No,  but  I  don't  want  to  be  knocked  olf  like  a 
green  apple,  before  Fm  ripe  and  ready." 

"  Better  be  knocked  off  green  and  unripe,"  said 
Kent,  his  railing  mood  changing  to  one  of  sad  intro- 
spection, "  than  to  prematurely  fall,  from  a  worm 
gnawing  at  your  heart." 

Jake's  fright  was  not  so  great  as  to  make  him 
forego  the  opportunity  for  a  brutal  retort : 

"  You  mean  the  '  worm  of  the  still,'I  s'pose.  Welb 
It  don't  gnaw  at  my  heart  so  much  as  at  some  other 
folkses'  that  I  know'd.'' 

Kent's  face  crimsoned  still  deeper,  and  he  half 
raised  his  musket,  as  if  to  strike  him,  but  at  that 
moment  came  the  order  to  march,  and  the  regiment 
moved  forward. 

The  enemy  was  by  this  time  known  to  be  near, 
and  the  men  marched  in  that  silence  that  comes  from 
tense  expectation. 

The  day  was  intensely  hot,  and  the  stagnant,  sul- 
try air  was  perfumed  with  the  thousand  sweet  odors 
that  rise  in  the  West  Vn-ginia  forests  in  the  first  flush 
of  Summer. 

The  road  wound  around  the  steep  mountain  side, 
through  great  thickets  of  glossy-leaved   hiurel,   by 


24 


THE    RED   ACORN. 


banks  of  fragrant  honeysuckle,  by  beds  of  millions 
of  sweet-breathing,  velvety  pansies,  nestling  under 
huge  shadowy  rocks,  by  acres  of  white  puccoon  flow 
ers,  each  as  lovely  as  the  lily  that  grows  by  cool 
Siloam's  shady  rill—  all  scattered  there  with  Nature's 
reckless  profusion,  where  no  eye  saw  them  from  year 
to  year  save  those  of  the  infrequent  hunter,  those  of 
the  thousands  of  gaily-pluinaged  birds  that  sang  and 
screamed  through  the  branches  of  the  trees  above, 
and  those  of  the  hideous  rattlesnakes  that  crawled  and 
hissed  in  the  crevices  of  the  shelving  rocks. 

At  last  the  regiment  halted  under  the  gi-ateful 
shadows  of  the  broad-topped  oaks  and  chestnuts.  A 
patriarchal  pheasant,  dnunniing  on  a  log  near  by 
some  uxorious  communication  to  his  brooding  mate, 
distended  his  round  eyes  in  amazement  at  the  strange 
irruption  of  men  and  hoi-ses,  and  then  whirred  away 
in  a  transport  of  fear.  A  crimson  crested  woodpecker 
ceased  his  ominous  tapping,  and  flew  boldly  to  a 
neighboring  branch,  where  he  could  inspect  the  new 
arrival  to  good  advantage  and  determine  its  char- 
acter. 

The  men  threw  themselves  down  for  a  moment's 
rest,  on  the  springing  moss  that  covered  the  whole 
mountain  side.  A  hum  of  comment  and  conversation 
arose.  Jake  Alspaugh  began  to  think  that  there  was 
not  likely  to  be  any  fight  after  all,  and  his  spirits  rose 
proportionately.  Abe  Bolton  growled  that  the  cow- 
ardly officers  had  no  doubt  deliberately  misled  the 
regiment,  that  a  fight  might  be  avoided.  Kent  Ed- 
wards saw  a  nodding  May-apple  flower— as  fair  as  a 
calla  and  as  odorous  as  a  pink— at  a  little  distance, 


FIRST  SHOTS.  25 

and  hastened  to  pick  it.  He  came  back  with  it  in  the 
muzzle  of  his  gun,  and  his  hands  full  of  violets. 

A  thick-bodied  rattlesnake  crawled  slowly  and 
clumsily  out  from  the  shelter  of  a  little  ledge,  his 
fearful  eyes  gleaming  with  deadly  intentions  against 
a  ground-squirrel  frisking  upon  the  end  of  a  mossy 
log,  near  where  Captain  Bob  Bennett  was  seated, 
poring  over  a  troublesome  detail  in  the  "Tactics." 
The  snake  saw  the  man,  and  his  awkward  movement 
changed  at  once  into  one  of  electric  alertness.  He 
sounded  his  terrible  rattle,  and  his  dull  diamonds  and 
stripes  lighted  up  with  the  glare  that  shines  through 
an  enraged  man's  face.  The  thick  body  seemed  to 
lengthen  out  and  gain  a  world  of  sinuous  suppleness. 
With  the  quickness  of  a  fla.sh  he  was  coiled,  witli  head 
erect,  forked  tongue  protruding,  and  eyes  flaming 
like  Satanic  jewels. 

A  shout  apprised  Captain  Bennett  of  his  danger. 
He  dropped  the  book,  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  quick- 
ness that  matched  the  snake's,  and  instinctively  drew 
his  sword.  Stepping  a  little  to  one  side  as  the  reptile 
launched  itself  at  him,  he  dextrously  cut  it  in  two 
with  a  sweeping  stroke.  A  shout  of  applause  rose 
from  the  excited  boys,  who  gathered  around  to  inspect 
the  slain  serpent  and  congratulate  the  Captain  upon 
his  skillful  disposition  of  his  assailant. 

"  O,  that's  only  my  old  bat-stroke  that  used  to 
worry  the  boys  in  town-ball  so  much,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain carelessly.  "It's  queer  what  things  turn  out 
useful  to  a  man,  and  when  he  least  expects  them." 

A  long,  ringing  yell  from  a  thousand  throats  cleft 
the   air,  and  with   its   last   notes  came  the   rattle  of 


26  THE   RED   ACORN. 

musketry  from  the  brow  of  the  hill  across  the  little 
ravine.  The  bullets  sang  viciously  overhead.  Thc}^ 
cut  the  leaves  and  branches  with  sharp  little  crashes, 
and  struck  men's  bodies  with  a  peculiar  slap.  A  score 
of  men  in  the  disordered  group  fell  back  dead  or 
dying  upon  the  green  moss. 

"Of  course,  we  might've  knowed  them  muddle- 
headed  officers 'd  run  us  right  slap  into  a  hornets' 
nest  of  Rebels  before  they  knowed  a  thing  about  it," 
grumbled  Abe  Bolton,  hastily  tearing  a  cartridge  Avith 
his  teeth,  and  forcing  it  into  his  gun. 

"Hold  on,  my  weak-kneed  patriot,"  said  Kent 
Edwards,  catching  Jake  Alspaugh  by  the  collar,  and 
turning  him  around  so  that  he  faced  the  enemy  again. 
"It's  awful  bad  manners  to  rush  out  of  a  matinee  just 
as  the  performance  begins.  You  disturb  the  people 
who've  come  to  enjoy  the  show.  Keep  your  seat  till 
the  curtain  goes  down.  You'll  find  enough  to  inter- 
est you.'' 

The  same  sudden  inspiration  of  common-sense  that 
had  flashed  upon  Captain  Bennett,  in  encountering 
the  snake  now  raised  him  to  the  level  of  this  emer- 
gency. He  comprehended  that  the  volley  they  had 
received  had  emptied  every  Rebel  gun.  The  distance 
was  so  short  that  the  enemy  could  be  reached  before 
they  had  time  to  re-load.  But  no  time  must  be  lost 
in  attempting  to  form,  or  in  having  the  order  regu- 
larly given  by  the  Colonel.  He  sprang  toward  the 
enemy,  waving  his  sword,  and  shouted  in  tones  that 
echoed  back  from  the  clifis: 

"Attention,  Battalion!  Charge  bayonets!  For- 
ward, DOUBLE-QUICK,  MARCH ! " 


FIRST   SHOTS.  27 

A  swelling  cheer  answered  him.  His  own  com- 
pany ran  forward  to  follow  his  impetuous  lead.  The 
others  joined  in  rapid l3^  Away  they  dashed  down 
the  side  of  the  declivity,  and  in  an  instant  more  were 
swarming  up  the  opposite  side  toward  the  astonished 
Rebels.  Among  these  divided  councils  reigned. 
Some  were  excitedly  snapping  unloaded  guns  at  the 
oncoming  foe;  others  were  fixing  bayonets,  and  stur- 
dily urging  their  comrades  to  do  likewise,  and  meet  the 
rushing  wave  of  cold  steel  with  a  counter  wave.  The 
weaker-hearted  ones  were  already  clambering  up  the 
mountain-side  out  of  reach  of  harm. 

There  was  no  time  for  debate.  The  blue  line  led 
by  Bennett  flung  itself  upon  the  dark-brown  mass  of 
Rebels  like  an  angry  wave  dashing  over  a  flimsy 
bank  of  sand,  and  in  an  instant  there  was  nothing  to 
be  done  but  pursue  the  disrupted  and  flying  frag- 
ments.    It  was  all  over. 


28  THE   RED   ACORN. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A     RACE. 

"  Some  have  greatness  thrust  upon  ihem."— Twelfth  Night. 

THE  unexpected  volley  probably  disturbed  pri- 
vate Jacob  Alspaugh's  mind  more  than  that  of 
an}^  other  man  in  the  regiment.  It  produced  there 
an  effect  akin  to  the  sensation  of  a  nauseous  emetic  in 
his  stomach. 

He  had  long  enjoyed  the  enviable  distinction  of 
being  the  "best  man"  among  the  combative  youths 
of  Sardis,  and  his  zeal  and  invariable  success  in  the 
fistic  tournaments  which  form  so  large  a  part  of  the 
interest  in  life  of  a  certain  class  of  young  men  in  vil- 
lages, had  led  his  townsmen  to  entertain  extravagant 
hopes  as  to  his  achievements  in  the  field. 

But,  like  most  of  his  class,  his  courage  was  purely 
ph3^sical,  and  a  low  order  of  that  type.  He  was  bold 
in  those  encounters  where  he  knew  that  his  superior 
strength  and  agility  rendered  small  the  chances  of  his 
receiving  any  serious  bodily  harm,  but  of  that  high 
pride  and  mounting  spirit  which  lead  to  soldierly 
deeds  he  had  none. 

The  sight  of  the  dying  men  on  each  side  shriv- 
eled his  heart  with  a  deadly  panic. 

"O,  Kent,"  he  groaned,  "  Lemme  go,  and  let's 
git  out  o'  here.     This's  just  awful,  and  it'll  be  ten 


times  wuss  in  another  minnit.  Let's  git  behind  that 
big  rock  there,  as  quick  as  the  Lord'll  let  us." 

He  turned  to  pull  away  from  Kent's  detaining 
hand,  when  he  heard  Captain  Bennett's  order  to  the 
regiment  to  charge,  and  the  hand  relaxed  its  hold. 
Jake  faced  to  the  front  again  and  saw  Kent  and  Abe 
Bolton,  and  the  rest  of  the  boj^s  rush  forward,  leaving 
him  and  a  score  of  other  weak-kneed  irresolutes 
standing  alone  behind. 

Again  he  thought  he  would  seek  the  refuge  of  the 
rock,  but  at  that  moment  the  Union  line  swept  up  to 
the  Rebels,  scattering  them  as  a  wave  does  dry  sand. 

Jake's  mental  motions  were  reasonably  rapid. 
Now  he  was  not  long  in  realizing  that  all  the  danger 
was  past,  and  that  he  had  an  opportunity  of  gain- 
ing credit  cheaply.  He  acted  promptly.  Fixing  his 
bayonet,  he  gave  a  fearful  yell  and  started  forward 
on  a  run  for  the  position  which  the  regiment  had 
gained. 

He  was  soon  in  the  lead  of  the  pursuers,  and  ap- 
peared, by  his  later  zeal,  to  be  making  amends  for 
his  earlier  tardiness.  As  he  ran  ahead  he  shouted 
savagely: 

"  Run  down  the  hellions!  Shoot  'em!  Stab  'em! 
Bay'net  'em!     Don't  let  one  of  'em  git  away." 

There  is  an  excitement  in  a  man-chase  that  is  not 
even  approached  by  any  other  kind  of  hunting,  and 
Jake  soon  became  fairly  intoxicated  with  it. 

He  quickly  overtook  one  or  two  of  the  slower- 
paced  Rebels,  who  surrendered  quietly,  and  were 
handed  by  him  over  to  the  other  boys  as  they  came 
up,  and  conducted  by  them  to  the  rear. 


30  THE   RED   ACORN. 

Becoming  more  excited  he  sped  on,  entirely  un- 
mindful of  how  far  he  was  outstripping  his  com- 
rades. 

A  hundred  yards  ahead  of  him  was  a  tall,  gaunt 
Virginian,  clad  in  butternut-colored  jeans  of  queer 
cut  and  pattern,  and  a  great  bell-crowned  hat  of 
rough,  gray  beaver.  Though  his  gait  was  shambling, 
and  his  huge  splay  feet  rose  and  fell  in  the  most  awk- 
ward way,  he  went  over  the  ground  with  a  swiftness 
that  made  it  rather  doubtful  whether  Jake  was  gain- 
ing on  him  at  all.  But  the  latter  was  encouraged 
by  the  signs  of  his  chase's  distress.  First  the  bell- 
crowned  hat  flew  oflf  and  rolled  behind,  and  Jake 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  give  it  a  kick  which 
sent  it  spinning  into  a  clump  of  honeysuckles.  Then 
the  Rebel  flung  ofl*  a  haversack,  whose  flapping  inter- 
fered with  his  speed,  and  this  was  followed  by  a 
clumsily-constructed  cedar  canteen.  The  thought 
flashed  into  Jake's  mind  that  this  was  probably  tilled 
with  the  much-vaunted  peach-brandy  of  that  section; 
and  as  ardent  spirits  was  one  of  his  weaknesses,  the 
temptation  to  stop  and  pick  up  the  canteen  was  very 
strong,  but  he  conquered  it  and  hurried  on  after  his 
prey.  Next  followed  the  fugitive's  belt,  loaded  down 
with  an  antique  cartridge-box,  a  savage  knife  made 
from  a  rasp  and  handled  with  buckhorn,  and  a  fierce- 
looking  horse-pistol  with  a  flint-lock. 

"I  seemed  to  be  bustin'  up  a  moosyum  o'  revolu- 
tionary relics,  "said  Jake  afterward,  in  describing  the 
incident.  "  The  feller  dropped  keepsakes  from  his 
forefathers  like  a  bird  moltin'  its  feathers  on  a  windy 
day.     I  begun  to  think  that  if  I  kep  up  the  chase 


A   RACE.  31 

purty  soon  he'd  begin  to  shed  Continental  money  and 
knee-britches. " 

The  fugitive  turned  off  to  the  right  into  a  narrow 
path  that  wound  through  the  laurel  thickets.  Jake 
followed  with  all  the  energy  that  remained  in  him, 
confident  that  a  short  distance  more  would  bring  him 
so  close  to  his  game  that  he  could  force  his  surrender 
by  a  threat  of  bayoneting.  He  caught  up  to  within 
a  rod  of  the  Rebel,  and  was  already  foreshortening 
his  gun  for  a  lunge  in  case  of  refusal  to  surrender  on 
demand,  when  he  was  amazed  to  see  the  Rebel  whirl 
around,  level  his  gun  at  him,  and  order  /lis  surrender. 
Jake  was  so  astonished  that  he  stumbled,  fell  forward 
and  dropped  his  gun.  As  he  raised  his  eyes  he  saw 
three  or  four  other  Rebels  step  out  from  behind  a 
rock,  and  level  their  guns  upon  him  with  an  expres- 
sion of  bloodthirstiness  that  seemed  simply  fiendish. 

Then  it  flashed  upon  him  how  far  away  he  was 
from  all  his  comrades,  and  that  the  labyrinth  of  lau- 
rel made  them  even  much  more  remote.  With  this 
realization  came  the  involuntary  groan: 

"•  O,  Lordy!  it's  all  up  with  me.  I'm  a  goner, 
sure!  " 

His  courage  did  not  ooze  out  of  his  fingers,  like 
the  historic  Bob  Acres's;  it  vanished  like  gas  from  a 
rent  balloon.  He  clasped  his  hands  and  tried  to  think 
of  some  prayer. 

"  Now  I  lay  me,"  he  murmured. 
"Shan't  we  shoot  the  varmint ?"  said  one  of  the 
Rebels,  with  a  motion  of  his  gun  in  harmony  with 
that  idea. 

'  O,  mister — mister — good  mister,  don't/     Please 


32  THE    RED    ACORN. 

don't!  I  swear  I  didn't  mean  to  do  no  harm  to 
you." 

"  Wall,  ye  acted  mouty  quare  fur  a  man  that 
didn't  mean  no  harm,"  said  the  pursued  man,  regain- 
ing his  breath  with  some  difficulty.  "  A-chasin'  me 
down  with  thet  ar  prod  on  yer  gun,  an'  a-threatenin' 
to  stick  hit  inter  me  at  every  jump.  Only  wanted 
ter  see  me  run,  did  yer  ?  " 

"  O,  mister,  I  only  done  it  because  I  wuz  ordered 
to.     T  couldn't  help  myself;  I  swear  I  couldn't. " 

"  Whar's  the  ossifers  thet  wuz  a-orderin'  ye  ? 
Whar's  the  captins  thet  wuz  puttin'  ye  up  ter  hit  ? 
Thar  wan't  no  one  in  a  mile  of  ye.  Guess  we'd  bet- 
ter shoot  ye. " 

Again  Jake  raised  his  voice  in  abject  appeal  for 
mercy.  There  was  nothing  he  was  not  willing  to 
promise  if  his  life  were  only  spared. 

"  Wouldn't  hit  be  better  ter  bay 'net  him  ?  "  sug- 
gested one  of  the  Rebels,  entirely  unmoved,  as  his 
comrades  were,  by  Jake's  piteous  pleadings.  "  Ef 
we  go  ter  shootin'  'round  yere  hit'll  likely  bring  the 
Yankees  right  onter  us." 

"I  'spect  hit  would  be  better  ter  take  him  back  a 
little  ways,  any  way,"  said  the  man  whom  Jake  had 
pursued.  "Pick  up  his  gun  thar,  Eph.  Come 
along,  you,  an'  be  mouty  peart  about  hit,  fur  we're 
in  a  powerful  bad  frame  o'  mind  ter  be  fooled  with. 
I  wouldn't  gin  a  fi'-penny-bit  fur  all  yer  blue-bellied 
life's  worth.  The  boys  ar  jest  pizen  mad  from  seein' 
so  many  o'  thar  kin  and  folks  killed  by  yer  crowd  o' 
thievin'  Hessians." 

Grateful  for  even  a  momentary  respite,  Jake  rose 


A  RACK.  88 

from  his  knees  with  alacrity  and  humbly  followed 
one  of  the  Rebels  along  the  path.  The  others  strode 
behind,  and  occasionally  spurred  him  into  a  more 
rapid  pace  with  a  prick  from  their  bayonets. 

"O, ough,     mister,    don't    do  that!     Don't, 

please!  You  don't  know  how  it  hurts.  I  ain't  got 
no  rhinoceros  skin  to  stand  such  jabs  as  that.  That 
come  purty  nigh  goin'  clean  through  to  my  heart." 

"  Skeet  ahead  faster,  then,  or  the  next  punch'll 
go  right  smack  through  ye,  fur  sartin.  Ef  yer  skin's 
so  tender  what  are  ye  doin'  in  the  army  ?  " 

The}^  climbed  the  mountain  laboriously,  and 
started  down  on  the  other  side.  About  midway  in 
the  descent  they  came  upon  a  deserted  cabin  stand- 
ing near  the  side  of  the  road. 

"By  the  Lord  Harry,"  said  one  of  the  Rebels, 
''  I'm  a'most  done  clean  gin  out,  so  I  am.  I'm 
tireder  nor  a  claybank  boss  arter  a  hard  day's  plowin', 
an'  I'm  ez  dry  ez  a  lime-kiln.  I  motioii  thet  we  stop 
yere  an'  take  a  rest.  We  kin  put  our  Yank  in  the 
house  thar,  an'  keep  him.  I  wonder  whar  the  spring 
is  thet  the  folks  thet  liverl  yere  got  thar  water 
from  ? " 

"  Ef  I  don't  disremember,"  said  another,  "this  is 
the  house  where  little  Pete  Higgenbottom  lived  afore 
the  country  got  ruther  onhelthy  fur  him  on  account 
of  his  partiality  for  other  people's  bosses.  I  made  a 
little  trip  up  yere  the  time  I  loss  thet  little  white- 
faced  bay  mar  of  pap's,  an  I'm  purty  sure  the  spring's 
over  thar  in  thet  holler. " 

"  Lordy,  how  they  must  Ve  hankered  arter  the 
fun  o'  totin'  water,  to  've  lugged  hit  clar  from  over 
C 


34  THE   RED   ACORN. 

thar.  I'd  've  moved  the  house  nigher  the  spring  afore 
I'd  've  stood  thet  ere  a  month,  so  I  would." 

"  The  distance  to  the  water  ortent  to  bother  a  feller 
thet  gets  along  with  usin'  ez  little  ez  you  do,"  growled 
the  first  speaker. 

"A  man  whose  nose  looks  like  a  red-pepper  pod 
in  August,  and  his  shirt  like  a  section  o'  rich  bottom 
land,  hain't  no  great  reason  ter  make  remarks  on 
other  folks's  use  o'  water." 

Jake  plucked  up  some  courage  from  the  relaxa- 
tion in  the  savage  grimness  of  his  captors,  which 
seeemed  implied  by  this  rough  pleasantry,  and  with 
him  such  recuperation  of  spirits  naturally  took  the 
form  of  brassy  self-assertion. 

"  Don't  you  fellers  know,"  he  began  with  a  manner 
and  tone  intended  to  be  placating,  but  instead  was 
rasping  and  irritating,  "  don't  you  fellers  know  that 
the  best  thing  you  can  do  with  me  is  to  take  me 
back  to  our  people,  and  trade  me  off  for  one  of  your 
fellers  that  they've  ketched  ?  " 

"  An'  don't  ye  know  thet  the  best  thing  ye  kin  do 
is  to  keep  thet  gapin'  mouth  o'  your  'n  shet,  so  thet 
the  flies  won't  git  no  chance  to  blow  yer  throat  ?"  said 
the  man  whose  nose  had  been  aptly  likened  to  a  ripe 
red-pepper  pod,  "an'  the  next  best  thing's  fur  ye  to 
git  inter  thet  cabin  thar  quicker  'n  blazes  '11  scorch  a 
feather,  an'  stay  thar  without  makin'  a  motion  toward 
gittin'  away.  Git ! "  and  he  made  a  bayonet  thrust 
at  Jake  that  tore  open  his  blouse  and  shirt,  and  laid 
a  great  gaping  wound  along  his  breast.  Jake  leaped 
into  the  cabin  and  threw  himself  down  upon  the 
puncheon  floor. 


A    RACE.  35 

"Thar  war  none  of  our  crowd  taken,"  said  anoth- 
er of  the  squad,  who  had  looked  on  approvingly. 
"They  wuz  all  killed,  an'  the  only  way  to  git  even  is 
ter  send  ye  whar  they  are." 

Jake  made  another  earnest  effort  to  recall  one  of 
the  prayers  he  had  derided  in  his  bad  boyhood. 

Leaving  the  red-nosed  man  to  guard  the  prisoner, 
the  rest  of  the  Rebels  started  for  the  hollow,  in  search 
of  water  to  cool  their  burning  thirst. 

They  had  gained  sucli  a  distance  from  the  scene  of 
the  fight,  and  were  in  such  an  out-of-the  way  place, 
that  the  thought  of  being  overtaken  did  not  obtrude 
itself  for  an  instant,  either  upon  their  minds  or  Jake's. 

But  as  they  came  back  up  the  hill,  with  a  gourd 
full  of  spring  water  for  their  companion,  they  were 
amazed  to  see  a  party  of  blue-coats  appear  around  the 
bend  of  the  road  at  a  little  distance.  They  dropped 
the  gourd  of  water,  and  yelled  to  the  man  on  guard  : 

"  Kill  the  Yank,  an'  run  for  yer  life  !  "  and  disap- 
peared themselves,  in  the  direction  of  the  spring. 

The  guard  comprehended  the  situation  and  the 
order.  He  fired  his  gun  at  Jake,  but  with  such  nerv- 
ous haste  as  to  destroy  the  aim,  and  send  the  charge 
into  the  puncheon  a  foot  beyond  his  intended  victim, 
and  then  ran  off  with  all  speed  to  join  his  companions. 
The  Union  boys  sent  a  few  dropping  shots  after  him, 
all  of  which  missed  their  mark. 

Jake  managed  to  recover  his  nerves  and  wits  suffi- 
ciently to  stagger  to  the  door  as  his  comrades  came 
up,  and  grasp  one  of  the  guns  the  Rebels  had  left. 

Questions  and  congratulations  were  showered  upon 
him,  but  he  replied  incoherently,  and  gasped  a  request 


36  THE    RED    ACORN. 

for  water,  as  if  he  were  perishing  from  thirst.  While 
some  hunted  for  this,  others  sought  for  traces  of  the 
Rebels ;  so  he  gained  time  to  fix  up  a  fairly  present- 
able story  of  a  desperate  and  long-continued  bayonet 
struggle  in  which  he  was  beiiaving  with  the  greatest 
gallantry,  although  nearly  hopeless  of  success,  when 
the  arrival  of  help  changed  the  aspect  of  matters. 
He  had  so  many  gaping  wounds  to  confirm  the  truth 
of  this  story,  that  it  was  implicitly  believed,  and  he 
was  taken  back  to  camp  as  one  of  the  foremost  heroes 
of  that  eventful  day.  The  Colonel  made  him  a  Ser- 
geant as  soon  as  he  heard  the  tale,  and  regretted  much 
that  he  could  not  imitate  the  example  of  the  great 
Napoleon,  and  raise  him  to  a  commission,  on  the  scene 
of  his  valiant  exploits.  His  cot  at  the  hospital  was 
daily  visited  by  numbers  of  admiring  comrades,  to 
whom  he  repeated  hfs  glowing  account  of  the  fight, 
with  marked  improvements  in  manner  and  detail 
accompanying  every  repetition. 

He  had  no  desire  to  leave  the  hospital  during  his 
term  of  service,  but  his  hurts  were  all  superficial  and 
healed  rapidly,  so  that  in  a  fortnight's  time  the  Sur- 
geon pronounced  him  fit  to  return  to  dut3^  He  cursed 
inwardly  that  officer's  zeal  in  keeping  the  ranks  as  full 
ns  possible,  and  went  back  to  his  company  to  find  it 
preparing  to  go  into  another  fight. 

"Hello.  Jake,''  said  his  comrades,  "  awful  glad  to 
see  you  back.  Now  you'll  have  a  chance  to  get  your 
revenge  on  those  fellows.  There'll  be  enough  of  us 
with  you  to  see  that  you  get  a  fair  fight." 

"To  the  devil  with  their  revenge  and  a  fair  fight," 
said  Jake  to  himself.  That  evening  he  strolled  around 


A    RACE,  87 

to  the  headquarters  tent,  and  said  to  the  commander 
of  the  regiment : 

'•  Colonel,  the  doctor  seems  to  think  that  I'm  fit  to 
return  to  duty,  but  I  don't  feel  all  right  yet.  IVe  a 
numbness  in  my  legs,  so  that  I  kin  hardly  walk  some- 
times. It's  my  old  rheumatics,  stirred  up  by  sleeping- 
out  in  the  night  air.  I  hear  that  the  man  who's  been 
drivin'  the  headquarters  wagon  has  had  to  go  to  the 
hospital.  I  want  to  be  at  something,  even  if  I  can't 
do  duty  in  the  ranks,  and  I'd  like. to  take  his  place  till 
him  and  me  gets  well.'' 

''  All  right.  Sergeant.  You  can  have  the  place  as 
long  as  you  wish,  or  any  other  that  I  can  give  you. 
I  can't  do  too  much  for  so  brave  a  man." 

So  it  happened  that  in  the  next  fight  the  regiment 
was  not  gratified  by  any  thrilling  episodes  of  sangui- 
nary, single-handed  combats,  between  the  indomita- 
ble Jake  and  bloodthirsty  Rebels. 

He  had  deferred  his  '*  revenge  "  indefinitely. 


38 


THE    RED    ACORN. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


DISGRACE. 

For  of  fortune's  sliarpe  adversltle 
The  worst  kind  of  Infortune  Is  this ; 

A  man  that  hath  been  In  prosperltle. 
And  It  remember  when  It  passed  Is. 

— Chauckr. 


TTARRY  GLEN'S  perfect  self-complacency  did 
XX  not  molt  II  feather  when  the  victors  returned  to 
camp  flushed  with  their  triumph,  which,  in  the  eyes 
of  those  inexperienced  three-months  men,  had  the 
dimensions  of  a  Waterloo.  He  did  not  know  that 
in  proportion  as  they  magnified  their  own  exploit,  so 
was  the  depth  ot  their  contempt  felt  for  those  of  their 
comrades  who  had  declined  to  share  the  perils  and  the 
honors  of  the  expedition  with  them.  He  was  too 
thoroughly  satisfied  with  himself  and  his  motives  to 
even  imagine  that  any  one  could  have  just  cause  for 
complaint  at  anything  he  chose  to  do. 

This  kept  him  from  understanding  or  appreciating 
the  force  of  the  biting  innuendoes  and  sarcasms  which 
were  made  to  his  very  face  ;  and  he  had  stood  so  aloof 
trom  all,  that  there  was  nolwdy  who  cared  to  take  the 
friendly  trouble  of  telling  him  how  free  the  camp  con- 
versation was  making  with  his  reputation. 

He  could  not  help,  however,  understanding  that 
in  some  way  he  had  lost  caste  with  the  regiment :  but 
he  serenely  attributed  this  to  mean-spirited  jealousy 
of  the  superior  advantages  he  was  enjoying,  and  it 


DISGRACE.  39 

only  made  him  more  anxious  for  the  coming  of  the 
time  when  he  could  *•  cut  the  whole  mob  of  beggars,'' 
as  Ned  Burnleigh  phrased  it. 

A  few  days  more  would  end  the  regiment's  term 
of  service,  and  he  readily  obtained  permission  to 
return  home  in  advance. 

The  first  real  blow  his  confidence  received  was 
when  he  walked  down  the  one  principal  street  of 
Sardis,  and  was  forced  to  a  perception  of  the  tact  that 
there  was  an  absence  of  that  effusive  warmth  with 
which  the  Sardis  people  had  ever  before  welcomed 
back  their  young  townsman,  of  whose  good  looks 
and  gentlemanliness  they  had  always  been  proud. 
Now  people  looked  at  him  in  a  curious  way.  They 
turned  to  whisper  to  each  other,  with  sarcastic  smiles 
and  knowing  winks,  as  he  came  into  view,  and  they 
did  not  come  forward  to  ofter  him  their  hands  as  of  old. 
It  astonished  him  that  nobody  alluded  to  the  company 
or  to  anything  that  had  happened  to  it. 

Turning  at  length  from  the  main  street,  he  entered 
the  lateral  one  leading  to  his  home.  As  he  did  so,  he 
heard  one  boy  call  out  to  another  in  that  piercing 
treble  which  boys  employ  in  making  their  confi- 
dential communications  to  one  another,  across  a 
street , 

"S-a-y-  did  you  know  that  Hank  Glen 'd  got 
back  ?  and  they  say  he  looks  pale  yet  ? " 

"Has  he?"  the  reply  came  in  high  falsetto,  palp- 
ably tinged  with  that  fine  scorn  of  a  healthy  boy,  for 
anything  which  does  not  exactly  square  with  his 
young  highness's  ideas.  "Come  back  to  his  mammy, 
eh  ?     Well,  it's  a  pity  she  ever  let  him  go  away  from 


40  THE    RED    ACORN. 

her.  Hope  she'll  keep  him  with  her  now.  He  don't 
seem  to  do  well  out  of  reach  of  her  apron  strings." 

The  whole  truth  flashed  upon  him :  Envious 
ones  had  slandered  him  at  home,  as  a  coward. 

He  walked  onward  in  a  flurry  of  rage.  The 
thought  that  he  had  done  anything  to  deserve  crit- 
icism could  not  obtrude  itself  between  the  joints  of 
his  triple-plated  armor  of  self-esteem. 

A  swelling  contempt  for  his  village  critics  flushed 
his  heart. 

''  Spiteful,  little-minded  country  boobies,"  he  said 
to  himself  with  an  impatient  shake  of  his  head,  as  if 
to  adjust  his  hair,  which  was  his  usual  sign  of  excite- 
ment, "  they've  always  hated  me  because  I  was  above 
them.  They  take  advantage  of  the  least  opportunity 
to  show  their  mean  jealousy." 

After  a  moment's  pause  :  ''  But  I  don't  care.  I'd 
a  little  rather  have  their  dislike  than  their  good-will. 
It'll  save  me  a  world  of  trouble  in  being  polite  to  a 
lot  of  curs  that  I  despise.  I'm  going  to  leave  this 
dull  little  burg  anyhow,  as  soon  as  I  can  get  away. 
I'm  going  to  Cincinnati,  and  be  with  Ned  Burnleigh. 
There  is  more  life  there  in  a  day  than  here  in  a  year. 
After  all,  there's  nobody  here  that  I  care  anything  for, 
except  father  and  mother — and — Rachel." 

A  new  train  of  thought  introduced  itself  at  this 
tardy  remembrance  of  his  betrothed.  His  heat  abated. 
He  stopped,  and  leaning  against  a  shady  silver  maple 
began  anew  a  meditation  that  had  occupied  his  mind 
very  frequently  since  that  memorable  night  under  the 
okl  apple  tree  on  the  hill-top. 


DISGRACE.  41 

There  had  been  for  him  but  little  of  that  spiritual 
exaltation  which  made  that  night  the  one  supreme  one 
in  Rachers  existence  ;  when  the  rapture  of  gratified 
pride  and  love  blended  with  the  radiant  moonlight 
and  the  subtle  fragrance  of  the  flowers  into  a  sweet 
symphony  that  would  well  chord  with  the  song  the 
stars  sang  together  in  the  morning. 

He  was  denied  the  intense  pleasure  that  comes  from 
success,  after  harrowing  doubts  and  fears.  His  unfail- 
ing consciousness  of  his  own  worth  had  left  him  little 
doubt  that  a  favorable  answer  would  promptly  follow 
whan  he  chose  to  propose  to  Rachel  Bond,  or  to  any 
other  girl,  and  when  this  came  with  the  anticipated 
readiness,  he  could  not  help  in  the  midst  of  his  grati- 
fication at  her  assent  the  intrusion  of  the  disagreeable 
suspicion  that,  peradventure,  he  had  not  done  the  best 
with  his  personal  wares  that  he  might.  Possibly 
there  would  appear  in  time  some  other  girl,  whom  he 
might  prefer  to  Rachel,  and  at  all  events  there  was 
no  necessity  for  his  committing  himself  when  he  did, 
for  Rachel  "would  have  kept,"  as  Ned  Burnleigh 
coarsely  put  it,  when  made  the  recipient  of  Harry's 
confidence. 

Three  months  of  companionship  with  Ned  Burn- 
leigh, and  daily  imbibition  of  that  young  man's  sto- 
ries of  his  wonderful  conquests  among  young  women 
of  peerless  beauty  and  exalted  social  station  con- 
firmed this  feeling,  and  led  him  to  wish  for  at  least 
such  slackening  of  the  betrothal  tether  as  would  per- 
mit excursions  into  a  charmed  realm  like  that  where 
Ned  reigned  supreme. 
3* 


42  THE    RED    ACORN. 

For  the  thousandth  time  —  and  in  each  recurrence 
becoming  a  little  clearer  defined  and  more  urgent — 
came  the  question: 

' '  Shall  I  break  with  Rachel  ?  How  can  I  ?  And 
what  possible  excuse  can  I  assign  for  it  ? " 

There  came  no  answer  to  this  save  the  spurs  Avith 
which  base  self-love  was  pricking  the  sides  of  his 
intent,  and  he  recoiled  from  it  —  ashamed  of  himself, 
it  is  true,  but  less  ashamed  at  each  renewed  consid- 
eration of  the  query. 

He  hastened  home  that  he  might  receive  a  greet- 
ing that  would  efiace  the  memory  of  the  reception  he 
had  met  with  in  the  street.  There,  at  least,  he  would 
be  regarded  as  a  hero,  returning  laurel-crowned  from 
the  conflict. 

As  he  entered  the  door  his  father,  tall,  spare  and 
iron-gra}',  laid  down  the  paper  he  was  reading,  and 
with  a  noticeable  lowering  of  the  temperature  of  his 
wonted  calm  but  earnest  cordiality,  said  simply: 

"  How  do  you  do  ?     When  did  you  get  in  ?  " 

"Very  well,  and  on  the  10:  30  train." 

"  Did  all  your  company  come  ?  " 

Harry  winced,  for  there  was  something  in  his 
father's  manner,  more  than  his  words,  expressive  of 
strong  disapproval.     He  answered: 

"No;  I  was  unwell.  The  water  and  the  ex- 
posure disagreed  with  me,  and  I  was  allowed  to  come 
on  in  advance." 

Mr.  Glen,  the  elder,  carefully  folded  the  paper  he 
was  reading  and  laid  it  on  the  stand,  as  if  its  presence 
would  embarrass  him  in  what  he  was  about  to  say. 
He  took  oflf  his  eye-glasses,  wiped  them  deliberately, 


I  DISGRACE.  43 

closed  them  up  and  hesitated  for  a  moment,  holding 
them  between  the  thumb  and  forefinger  of  one  hand, 
before  placing  them  in  their  case,  which  he  had  taken 
from  his  pocket  with  the  other. 

These  were  all  gestures  with  which  experience 
had  made  Harry  painfully  familiar.  He  used  to 
describe  them  to  his  boy  intimates  as  "the  Governor 
clearing  for  action.""  There  was  something  very  disa- 
greeable coming,  and  he  awaited  it  apprehensively. 

"Were  you"— the  ftither's  cold,  searching  eyes 
rested  for  an  instant  on  the  glasses  in  his  hand,  and 
then  were  fixed  on  his  son's  face — "were  you  too  ill 
the  day  of  the  fight  to  accompany  your  command  ?  " 

Harry's  glance  quailed  under  the  penetrating  scru- 
tiny, as  was  his  custom  when  his  father  subjected 
him  to  a  relentless  catechism;  then  he  summoned 
assurance  to  his  aid,  and  his  face  reddened  with  both 
genuine  and  assumed  anger. 

"Father,"  he  said,  "I  certainly  did  not  expect 
that  you  Avould  join  these  mean-spirited  curs  in  their 
abuse  of  me,  but  now  I  see  that " 

"Henry,  you  evade  the  question."  The  calm 
eyes  took  on  a  steely  hardness.  "  You  certainly 
know  by  this  time  that  I  always  require  direct  an- 
swers to  my  questions.  Now  the  point  is  this:  You 
entered  this  company  to  be  its  leader,  and  to  share 
all  its  duties  with  it.  It  went  into  a  fight  while  you 
remamed  back  in  camp.  Why  was  this  so  ?  Were 
you  too  sick  to  accompany  it  ?  " 

' '  I  certainly  was  not  feeling  well. " 

"Were  you  too  ill  to  go  along  with  your  com- 
pany ? " 


44  THE    RED    ACORN. 

''Well  —  I  —  really — was — not — feeling — well, — 
and —  there  — was  —  some  — work  — in  —  camp  — that 
— needed — to — be — done — and  there  was  enough  with- 
out me, — and — I — I — " 

"  That  is  sufficient,"  said  the  elder  man  with  a 
look  of  scorn  that  presently  changed  into  one  of 
deeply  wounded  pride.  "Henry,  I  know  too  well 
your  disposition  to  shirk  the  unpleasant  duties  of 
life,  to  be  much  surprised  that,  when  tried  by  this 
test,  you  were  found  wanting.  But  this  wounds  me 
deeply.  People  in  Sardis  think  my  disposition  hard 
and  exacting;  the}^  think  I  care  for  little  except  to 
get  all  that  is  due  me.  But  no  man  here  can  say  that 
in  all  his  long  life  Robert  Glen  shirked  or  evaded  a 
single  duty  that  he  owed  to  the  comnumity  or  his 
fellowMnen,  no  matter  how  dangerous  or  disagreea- 
ble that  duty  might  be.'  To  have  you  fail  in  this 
respect  and  to  take  and  maintain  your  place  in  the 
front  rank  with  other  men  is  a  terrible  blow  to  my 
pride." 

'-  O,  Harry,  is  that  you  ? "  said  his  mother,  coming 
into  the  room  at  that  moment  and  throwing  herself 
mto  her  son's  arms.  ''I  was  lying  down  when  I 
heard  your  voice,  and  I  dressed  and  hurried  down  as 
quickly  as  possible.  I  am  so  glad  that  you  have 
come  home  all  safe  and  well.  I  know  that  you'll 
contradict,  for  your  poor  mother's  sake,  all  these 
horrible  stories  that  are  worrying  her  almost  to 
death." 

"  Unfortunately  he  has  just  admitted  that  those 
stories  are  substantially  true,"  said  the  father  curtly. 

"  I  won't  believe  it,''  sobbed  his  mother,  "until  he 


DI8GRACB.  45 

tells  me  so  himself.  You  didn't,  did  you,  back  out 
of  a  fight,  and  let  that  Bob  Bennett,  whose  mother 
used  to  be  my  sewing  girl,  and  whom  I  supported 
for  months  after  he  was  born,  and  his  father  died 
with  tlie  cholera  and  left  her  nothing,  by  giving  her 
work  and  paying  her  cash,  and  who  is  now  putting 
on  all  sorts  of  airs  because  everybod^^'s  congratu- 
lating her  on  having  such  a  wonderful  son.  and  no- 
body's congratulating  me  at  all,  and  sometimes  I 
almost  wish  I  was  dead." 

Clearness  of  statement  was  never  one  of  Mrs. 
Glen's  salient  characteristics.  Nor  did  deep  emotion 
help  her  in  this  regard.  Still  it  was  only  too  evi- 
dent that  the  fountains  of  her  being  were  moved  by 
having  another  woman's  son  exalted  over  her  own. 
Her  maternal  pride  and  social  prestige  were  both 
quivering  under  the  blow. 

Harry  met  this  with  a  flank  movement. 

"You  both  seem  decidedl}^  disappointed  that  I 
did  not  get  myself  wounded  or  killed,"  he  said. 

"That's  an  unmanly  whimper,"  said  his  father  con- 
temptuously. 

"Why,  Harry,  Bob  Bennett  didn't  get  either 
killed  or  wounded, "  said  his  mother  with  that  defect- 
ive ratiocination  which  it  is  a  pretty  woman's  priv- 
ilege to  indulge  in  at  her  own  sweet  will. 

Harry  withdrew  from  the  mortifying  conference 
under  the  plea  of  the  necessity  of  going  to  his  room 
to  remove  the  grime  of  travel. 

He  was  smarting  with  rage  and  humiliation.  His 
panoply  of  conceit  was  pierced  for  the  first  time  since 
the  completion  of  his  collegiate  course  sent  him  forth 


46  THE    RED    ACOK^. 

into  the  world  a  being  superior,  in  his  own  esteem, 
to  the  accidents  and  conditions  that  the  mass  of  infe- 
rior mortals  are  subject  to.  Yet  he  found  reasons  to 
account  for  liis  parents'  defection  to  tlie  ranks  of  his 
enemies. 

''It's  no  new  thing,"  he  said,  while  carefully 
dressing  for  a  call  upon  Rachel  in  the  evening,  "for 
father  to  be  harsh  and  unjust  to  me,  and  mother  has 
one  of  her  nervous  spells,  when  everything  goes 
wrong  with  her." 

"Anyhow,"  he  continued,  "there's  Ned  Burn- 
leigh,  who  understands  me  and  will  do  me  justice, 
and  he  amounts  to  more  than  all  of  Sardis  —  except 
Rachel,  who  loves  me  and  will  always  believe  that 
what  I  do  is  right." 

He  sat  down  at  his  desk  and  wrote  a  long  letter 
to  Ned,  inveighing  bitterly  against  the  stupidity  and 
malice  of  people  living  in  small  villages,  and  inform- 
ing him  of  his  intention  to  remove  to  Cincinnati  as 
soon  as  an  opening  could  be  found  for  him  there, 
which  he  l)egged  Ned  to  busy  himself  in  discov- 
ering. 

Attired  in  his  most  becoming  garb,  and  neglecting 
nothing  that  could  enhance  his  personal  appearance, 
he  walked  slowly  up  the  hill  in  the  evening  to  Rachel 
Bond's  house.  The  shrinkage  which  his  self-sufB- 
ciency  had  suffered  had  left  room  for  a  wonderful 
expansion  of  his  affection  for  Rachel,  whose  love  and 
lo3^alty  were  now  essential  to  him,  to  compensate  for 
the  falling  away  of  others.  The  question  of  whether 
he  should  break  with  her  was  now  one  the  answering 
of  which  could  be  postponed  indefinitely.     There  was 


DISGRACE.  47 

no  reason  why  he  should  not  enjoy  the  sweet  priv- 
ileges of  an  affianced  lover  during  his  stay  in  Sardis. 
What  would  happen  afterward  would  depend  upon 
the  shape  that  things  took  in  his  new  home. 

He  found  Rachel  sitting  on  the  piazza.  Though 
dressed  in  the  deepest  and  plainest  black  she  had 
never  looked  so  surpassingly  beautiful.  As  is  usually 
the  case  with  young  women  of  her  type  of  beauty, 
grief  had  toned  down  the  rich  coloring  that  had  at 
times  seemed  almost  too  exuberant  into  that  delicate 
shell-like  tint  which  is  the  perfection  of  nature's  paint- 
ing. Her  round  white  arms  shone  like  Juno's,  as  the 
outlines  were  revealed  by  the  graceful  motions  ^hich 
threw  back  the  wide  sleeves.  Her  wealth  of  silken 
black  hair  was  drawn  smoothly  back  from  her  white 
forehead,  over  her  shapely  head,  and  gathered  into 
a  simple  knot  behind.  Save  a  black  brooch  at  her 
throat,  she  wore  no  ornaments —  not  even  a  plain  ring. 

She  rose  as  Harry  came  upon  the  piazza,  and  for 
a  moment  her  ftice  was  rigid  with  intensity  of  feeling. 
This  evidence  of  emotion  went  as  quickly  as  it  came, 
however,  and  she  extended  her  hand  with  calm  disr- 
nity,  saying  simply: 

"You  have  returned,  Mr.  Glen." 

In  his  anxiety  to  so  phiy  the  impassioned  lover  as 
to  conceal  the  recreancy  he  had  fo&tered  in  his  own 
heart,  Harry  did  not  notice  the  coolness  of  this  greet- 
ing. Then,  too,  his  self-satisfaction  had  always  done 
him  the  invaluable  service  of  preventing  a  ready  per- 
ception of  the  repellant  attitudes  of  others. 

He  came  forward  eagerly  to  press  a  kiss  upon  her 
lips,  but  she  checked  him  with  uplifted  hand. 


48  THE    RED    ACORX. 

"O,  the  family's  in  there,  are  they?"  said  he, 
looking  toward  the  open  windows  of  the  parlor. 
"  Well,  what  matter  ?  Isn't  it  expected  that  a  fellow 
will  kiss  his  affianced  wife  on  his  return,  and  not  care 
who  knows  it  ? " 

He  pointed  to  the  old  apple-tree  where  the3^  had 
plighted  their  troth  that  happy  night,  with  a  gesture 
and  look  that  was  a  reminder  of  their  former  meet- 
ing and  an  invitation  to  go  thither  again.  She  com- 
prehended, but  refused  with  a  shudder,  and.  turning, 
motioned  him  to  the  farther  end  of  the  piazza,  to 
which  she  led  the  way,  moving  with  a  sweeping 
gracefulness  of  carriage  that  Harry  thought  had  won- 
derfully ripened  and  perfected  in  the  three  months 
that  had  elapsed  since  their  parting 

"  'Fore  gad,"  he  said  to  himself.  (This  was  a  new 
addition  to  his  expletoiy  vocabulary,  which  had 
accrued  from  Ned  Burnleigh's  companionship.)  "  I'd 
like  to  put  her  alongside  of  one  of  the  girls  that  Ned's 
always  talking  about.  I  don't  believe  she's  got  her 
equal  anywhere." 

Arriving  at  the  end  of  the  piazza  he  impetuously 
renewed  his  attempt  at  an  embrace,  but  her  repulse 
was  now  unmistakable. 

"Sit  down,"  she  said,  pointing  to  a  chair;  '•  1 
have  something  to  say  to  you." 

Harry's  first  thought  was  a  rush  of  jealousy. 
"Some  rascal  has  supplanted  me,"  he  said  bitterly, 
but  under  his  breath. 

She  took  a  chair  near  by,  put  away  the  arm  he 
would  have  placed  about  her  waist,  drew  from  her 
pocket  a  dainty  handkerchief  bordered  with  black. 


DISGRACE.  49 

and  opened  it  deliberately.     It  shed  a  delicate  odor 
of  violets. 

Harry  waited  anxiously  for  her  to  speak. 

"  This  mourning  which  I  wear,"  she  began  gently, 
"I  put  on  when  I  received  the  news  of  your  down- 
fall." 

"  My  do^Tifall  ?  "  broke  in  Harry  hotly.  "  Great 
heavens,  you  don't  say  that  you,  too,  have  been  car- 
ried away  by  this  wretched  village  slander  ?  " 

"I  put  it  on,"  she  continued,  unmindful  of  the 
interruption,  ''because  I  suffered  a  loss  which  was 
greater  than  any  merely  physical  death  could  have 
occasioned." 

"I  don't  understand  you." 

"  My  faith  in  you  as  a  man  superior  to  your  fel- 
lows died  then.  This  was  a  much  more  cruel  blow 
than  your  bodily  death  would  have  been." 

"Fore  gad,  you  take  a  pleasant  view  of  my  de- 
cease —  a  much  cooler  one,  I  must  confess,  than  I 
am  able  to  take  of  that  interesting  event  in  my  his- 
tory." 

Her  great  eyes  blazed,  and  she  seemed  about  to 
reply  hotly,  but  she  restrained  herself  and  went  on 
with  measured  calnmess: 

"  The  reason  I  selected  you  from  among  all  other 
men,  and  loved  you,  and  joyfully  accepted  as  my  lot 
in  life  to  be  your  devoted  wife  and  helpmate,  was 
that  I  believed  you  superior  in  all  manly  things  to 
other  men.  Without  such  a  belief  I  could  love  no 
man." 

She  paused  for  an  instant,  and  Harry  managed  to 
stammer: 

D  3 


60  THE   RED   ACORN. 

"But  what  have  I  done  to  deserve  being  thrown 
over  in  this  unexpected  way  ? " 

"You  have  not  done  anything.  That  is  the 
trouble.  You  have  failed  to  do  that  which  was  right- 
fully expected  of  you.  You  have  allowed  others, 
who  had  no  better  opportunities,  to  surpass  you  in 
doing  your  manly  duty.  Whatever  else  my  husband 
may  not  be  he  must  not  fail  in  this." 

"  Rachel,  you  are  hard  and  cruel." 

"No,  I  am  only  kind  to  you  and  to  myself  I 
know  myself  too  well  to  make  a  mistake  in  this  re- 
spect. I  have  seen  too  many  women  who  have  been 
compelled  to  defend,  apologize  or  blush  for  their  hus- 
band's acts,  and  have  felt  too  keenly  the  abject  mis- 
ery of  their  lives  to  take  the  least  chance  of  adding 
myself  to  their  sorrowful  number.  If  I  were  married 
to  you  I  could  endure  to  be  beaten  by  you  and  per- 
haps love  you  still,  but  the  moment  I  was  compelled 
to  confess  your  inferiority  to  some  other  woman's 
husband  I  should  hate  you,  and  in  the  end  drag  both 
of  us  down  to  miserable  graves." 

"  But  let  me  explain  this." 

"It  would  be  a  waste  of  time,"  she  answered  coldly. 
"  It  is  sufBcient  for  me  to  know  that  3^ou  are  con- 
victed by  general  opinion  of  having  failed  where  a 
number  of  commonplace  fellows  succeeded.  You, 
yourself,  admit  the  justice  of  this  verdict  b}''  tame 
submission  to  it,  making  no  effort  to  retrieve  your 
reputation.  I  can  not  understand  how  this  could  be 
so  if  you  had  any  of  the  qualities  that  I  fondly  imag- 
ined you  possessed  in  a  high  degree.     But  this  inter 


DISGRACE.  61 

view  is  being  protracted  to  a  painful  extent.     Let  us 
say  good  night  and  part. " 

"Forever?"  he  stammered. 

"Yes." 

She  held  out  her  hand  for  farewell.  Harry  caught 
it  and  would  have  carried  it  to  his  lips,  but  she  drew 
it  away. 

"No;  all  that  must  be  ended  now,"  she  said,  with 
the  first  touch  of  gentleness  that  had  shaded  her  sad, 
serious  eyes. 

"  Will  you  give  me  no  hope?  "  said  Harry,  plead- 
ingly- 

' '  When  you  can  make  people  forget  the  past  — if 
ever  —  "  she  said,  "then  I  will  change  this  dress  and 
you  can  come  back  to  me." 

She  bowed  and  entered  the  house. 


58  THE  EED  ACOEN. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   LINT-SCRAPING    AND   BANDAGE- MAKING   UNION. 

At  length  I  have  acted  my  severest  part: 
I  feel  the  woman  breaking  in  upon  me, 
And  melt  about  my  heart:     My  tears  ^7I11  flow. 

— Addison. 

EACHEL  BOND'S  will  had  carried  her  triumph- 
antly through  a  terrible  ordeal — how  terrible  no 
one  could  guess,  unless  he  followed  her  to  her  room 
after  the  interview  and  saw  her  alone  with  her  agony. 
She  did  not  weep.  Tears  did  not  lie  near  the  surface 
with  her.  The  lachrymal  glands  had  none  of  that 
ready  sensitiveness  which  gives  many  superficial  wo- 
men the  credit  of  deep  feeling.  But  when  she  did 
weep  it  was  not  an  April  shower,  but  a  midsummer 
tempest. 

Now  it  was  as  if  her  intense  grief  were  a  powerful 
cautery  which  seared  and  sealed  every  duct  of  the 
fountain  of  tears  and  left  her  eyes  hot  and  dry  as  her 
lieart  was  ashes. 

With  pallid  face  and  lips  set  until  the  blood  was 
forced  from  them,  and  they  made  a  thin  purplish  line 
in  the  pale  flesh,  she  walked  the  floor  back  and  forth, 
ever  back  and  forth,  until  a  half-stumble,  as  she  was 
turning  in  the  drear}''  round,  revealed  to  her  that  she 
was  almost  dropping  from  exhaustion. 

She  had  thought  her  love  for  Harry  had  received 
its  death  blow  when  her  pride  in  him  had  been  so 


LINT-SCRAPING   AND   BANDAGE-MAKING    UNIQN.  53 

rudely  shattered.  But  this  meeting,  in  which  she 
played  the  part  set  for  herself  with  a  brave  perfec- 
tion that  she  had  hardly  deemed  possible,  had  resur- 
rected every  dear  memory,  and  her  passion  sprung 
into  life  again  to  mock  and  jeer  at  her  eflbrts  to  throt- 
tle it  out  of  existence.  With  him  toppling  from  the 
pedestal  on  which  her  husband  must  stand,  she  had 
told  herself  that  there  was  naught  left  but  to  roll  a 
great  stone  against  the  sepulcher  in  which  her  love 
must  henceforth  lie  buried,  hopeless  of  the  coming 
of  any  bright  angel  to  unseal  the  gloomy  vault.  Yet, 
despite  the  entire  approval  given  this  by  her  judg- 
ment, her  woman's  heart  cried  bitterly  for  a  return 
of  the  joys  out  of  which  the  beauty  had  fled  for- 
ever. 

Hours  passed  in  this  wrestle  with  pain.  How 
many  she  did  not  know,  but  when  she  came  forth  it 
was  Avith  the  composure  of  one  who  had  fought  the 
fight  and  won  the  victory,  but  at  a  cost  that  forbade 
exultation. 


There  was  one  ordeal  that  thus  far  she  had  not 
been  called  upon  to  endure.  From  the  day  on  which 
she  had  donned  her  sable  robes  to  that  of  Harry's 
return  no  one  had  ventured  to  speak  his  name  in  her 
presence.  Even  her  father  and  mother,  after  the  first 
burst  of  indignation,  had  kept  silence  in  pity  for  her 
suflering,  and  there  was  that  in  her  bearing  that  for- 
bade others  touching  upon  a  subject  in  her  hearing 
that  elsewhere  was  discussed  with  the  hungry  avidity 
of  village  gossips  masticating  a  fresh  scandal. 

But  she  could  not  be  always  spared  thus.     She 


54  THE   RED   ACORN. 

had  not  been  so  careful  of  the  feelings  of  less  favored 
women  and  girls,  inferior  to  her  in  brightness,  as  to 
gain  any  claim  for  clement  treatment  now,  when  the 
displacement  of  a  portion  of  her  armor  of  superiority 
gave  those  who  envied  or  disliked  her  an  unprotected 
spot  upon  which  to  launch  their  irritating  little  darts. 

All  the  sewing,  dorcas  and  mite  societies  of  the 
several  churches  in  Sardis  had  been  merged  into  one 
consolidated  Lint-Scraping  and  Bandage-Making  Un- 
ion, in  whose  enlarged  confines  the  waves  of  gossip 
flowed  with  as  much  more  force  and  volume  as  other 
waves  gain  when  the  floods  unite  a  number  of  small 
pools  into  one  great  lake. 

In  other  days  a  sensational  ripple  starting,  say  in 
the  Episcopalian  "  Dorcas,"  was  stilled  into  calmness 
ere  it  passed  the  calm  and  stately  church  boundaries. 
It  would  not  do  to  let  its  existence  be  even  suspected 
by  the  keen  eyes  of  the  freely-censorious  Presbyte- 
rian dames,  or  the  sharp-witted,  agile-tongued  Meth- 
odist ladies. 

And,  much  as  these  latter  were  disposed  to  talk 
over  the  weaknesses  and  foibles  of  their  absent  sisters 
in  the  confidential  environments  of  the  Mite  Society 
or  the  Sewing  Circle,  the}''  were  as  reluctant  to  ex- 
pose these  to  the  invidious  criticisms  of  the  women  of 
the  other  churches  as  if  the  discussed  ones  had  been 
their  sisters  in  fact,  and  not  simply  through  sectarian 
affiliation.  Church  pride,  if  nothing  else,  contributed 
to  the  bridling  of  their  tongues,  and  checking  the 
free  circulation  of  gossip. 

"Them  stuck-up  Presbyterian  and  Episcopalian 
women  think   little   enough   on    us   now,    the   land 


LINT-SCRAPING   AND   BANDAGE-MAKING  UNION.  55 

knows,"  Mrs.  Debcu'ah  Pancake  explained  to  a  newly- 
received  sister,  whom  she  was  instructing  in  ele- 
mentary duties.  "  There's  no  use  giving  'em  more 
reason  for  looking  down  upon  us.  We  may  talk 
over  each  other's  short-comings  among  ourselves, 
private  like,  because  the  Bible  tells  us  to  admonish 
and  watch  over  each  other.  But  it  don't  say  that 
we're  to  give  outsiders  any  chance  to  speak  ill  of  our 
sisters-in-Christ. " 

And  Mrs.  Euphrosyne  Pursifer  remarked  to  the 
latest  agreeable  accession  to  the  parish  of  St.  Marks, 
with  that  graceful  indirection  that  gave  her  the  repu- 
tation in  Sardis  of  being  a  feminine  Talleyrand  : 

"Undoubtedly  the  ladies  in  these  outside  denom- 
inations are  very  worthy  women,  dear,  but  a  certain 
circumspection  seems  advisable  in  conversing  with 
them  on  subjects  that  we  may  speak  of  rather  freely 
among  ourselves." 

The  rising  fervor  of  the  war  spirit  melted  away 
most  of  these  barriers  to  a  free  interchange  of  gossip. 
With  the  first  thrill  of  pleasure  at  finding  that  patri- 
otism had  drawn  together  those  whom  the  churches 
had  long  held  aloof  came  to  all  the  gushing  impulse 
to  cement  the  newly-formed  relationship  by  confiding 
to  each  other  secrets  heretofore  jealously  guarded. 
Nor  should  be  forgotten  the  "narrative  stimulus" 
every  one  feels  on  gaining  new  listeners  to  old  sto- 
ries. 

It  was  so  graciously  condescending  in  Mrs.  Eu- 
phrosyne Pursifer  to  communicate  to  Mrs.  Elizabeth 
Baker  some  few  particulars  in  which  her  aristocratic 
associates  of  St.  Marks  had  grieved  her  by  not  rising 


56  THE    RED   ACORN. 

to  her  standard  of  womanly  dignity  and  Christian 
duty,  that  Mrs.  Baker  in  turn  was  only  too  happ}'  to 
reciprocate  with  a  similar  confidence  in  regard  to  her 
intimate  friends  of  Wesley  Chapel. 

It  was  this  sudden  lapsing  of  all  restraint  that 
made  the  waves  of  gossi))  surge  like  sweeping  billows. 

And  the  flotsam  that  appeared  most  frequentl}'  of 
late  on  their  crests,  and  that  was  tossed  most  relent- 
lessly hither  and  thither,  was  Rachel  Bond's  and 
Harry  Glen's  conduct  and  relations  to  each  other. 

"The  Consolidated  Lint-scraping  and  Bandage-mak- 
ing Union  was  holding  a  regular  session,  and  gossip 
was  at  spring-tide. 

"It  is  certainly  queer,"  said  Mrs.  Tufis,  one  of  her 
regulation  smiles  illuminating  her  very  artificial  coun- 
tenance; "it  is  singular  to  the  last  degree  that  we 
don't  have  Miss  Rachel  Bond  among  us.  She  is  such 
a  lovely  girl.  I  am  very,  very  fond  of  her,  and  her 
heart  is  thoroughly  in  unison  with  our  objects.  It 
would  seem  impossible  for  her  to  keep  awa\'." 

All  this  with  the  acrid  sub-flavor  of  irony  and  insin- 
cerity with  which  an  insincere  woman  can  not  help 
tainting  even  her  most  sincere  words. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Tabitha  Grimes,  with  a  premed- 
itated acerbity  apparent  even  in  the  threading  of  her 
needle,  into  the  eye  of  which  she  thrust  the  thread  as 
if  piercing  the  flesh  of  an  enemy  with  a  barb ;  "yes  ;" 
she  pulled  the  thread  through  v/ith  a  motion  as  if  she 
enjoyed  its  rasping  against  the  steel.  "  Rachel  Bond 
started  into  this  work  quite  as  brash  as  Harry  Glen 
started  into  the  war.  Her  enthusiasm  died  out  about 
as  quickly  as  his  courage,  when  it  came  to  the  actual 


LINT-SCRAPING    AND   BANDAGE-MAKING   UNION.  57 

business,  and  she  found  there  was  nobody  to  admire 
her  industry,  or  the  way  she  got  herself  up,  except 
a  parcel  of  married  women. " 

The  milk  of  human  kindness  had  begun  to  curdle 
in  Mrs.  Grimes's  bosom,  at  an  early  and  now  rather 
remote  age.  Years  of  unavailing  struggle  to  convince 
Mr.  Jason  Grimes  that  more  of  his  valuable  time 
should  be  devoted  to  providing  for  the  wants  of  his 
family,  and  less  to  leading  the  discussion  on  the  con- 
dition of  the  country  in  the  free  parliament  that  met 
around  the  stove  in  the  corner  grocery,  had  carried 
forward  this  lacteal  fermentation  until  it  had  converted 
the  milky  fluid  into  a  vinegarish  whey. 

"  Well,  why  not?  "  asked  Elmira  Spelter,  the  main 
grief  of  whose  life  was  time's  cruel  inflexibility  in 
scoring  upon  her  tace  unconcealable  tallies  of  every  one 
of  his  yearly  flights  over  her  head,  "why  should  n't 
she  enjoy  these  golden  days?  Youth  is  passing,  to 
her  and  to  all  of  us,  like  an  arrow  from  the  bow. 
It  'd  be  absurd  for  her  to  waste  her  time  in  this  stuffy 
old  place,  when  there  are  so  many  more  attractive 
ones.  It  ought  to  be  enough  that  those  of  us  who 
have  only  a  few  remnants  of  beauty  left,  should 
devote  them  to  this  work." 

"Well,"  snapped  Mrs.  Grimes,  "your  donation  of 
good  looks  to  the  cause — even  if  you  give  all  you  got 
— will  be  quite  modest,  something  on  the  widow's 
mite  order.  You  might  easily  obey  the  scriptural  in- 
junction, and  give  them  with  your  right  hand  without 
your  left  knowing  what  was  being  done." 

Elmira  winced  under  this  spiteful  bludgeoning, 
but  she  rallied  and  came  back  at  her  antasonist. 


58  THE    RED   ACOKi^. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  she  said  quietly,  "  the  thought 
often  occurs  to  me,  that  one  great  reason  why  we 
both  have  been  able  to  keep  in  the  straight  and  nar- 
row path,  is  the  entire  lack  of  that  l)eauty  which  so 
often  proves  a  snare  to  the  feet  of  even  the  best-inten- 
tioned  women." 

It  was  Mrs.  Grimes's  turn  to  wiace. 

"A  hit!  a  palpable  hit!"  laughed  pretty  Ann;, 
Bayne,  who  studied  and  quoted  Shaksperc, 

"The  mention  of  snares  reminds  me,"  said  Mrs. 
Grimes,  "that  /,  at  least,  did  not  have  to  spread  any 
to  catch  a  husljand." 

"  No,"  returned  Elmira,  with  irritating  composure. 
"  the  poorer  kinds  of  game  are  caught  without  tak- 
ing that  trouble." 

"Well" — Mrs.  Grimes's  temper  was  rising  so  rap- 
idly that  she  was  losing  her  usual  skill  in  this  verbal 
fence — "Jason  Grimes,  no  doubt,  has  his  faults,  as  all 
men  have  ;  but  he  is  certainly  better  than  no  husband 
at  all." 

"That's  the  way  for  you  to  think,"  said  Ehiiira. 
composedly,  disregarding  the  thrust  at  her  own  celi- 
bac}^  "It's  very  nice  in  you  to  take  so  cheerful  a  view 
of  it.  Somebody  had  to  marry  him,  doubtless,  and 
it's  real  gratifying  to  sec  one  accepting  the  visitations 
of  Providence  in  so  commendable  a  spirit." 

To  use  the  language  of  diplomacy,  the  relations 
between  these  ladies  had  now  become  so  strained  that 
a  rupture  seemed  unavoidable. 

"Heavens,  will  this  quarrel  ne'er  be  mended?" 
quoted  Anna  Bayne,  not  all  sorry  that  these  veteran 


LINT-SCKAPING   AND   BANDAGE-MAKING    UNION.  5i^ 

word-swordsmea,  dreaded  by  everybody,  were  for 
once  turning  their  weapons  on  each  other. 

Peace-making  was  one  of  the  prerogatives  assumed 
by  Mrs.  Tufis,  as  belonging  to  the  social  leadership 
to  which  she  had  elected  herself.  She  now  hastened 
to  check  the  rapidly-opening  breach. 

'^Ladies,"  she  said  blandly,  ''the  discussion  has 
wandered.  Our  first  remarks  were,  I  believe  about 
Miss  Bond,  and  there  was  a  surmise  as  to  her  reasons 
for  discontinuing  attendance  upon  our  meetings." 

The  diversion  had  the  anticipated  efiect.  The  two 
disputants  gladly  quit  each  other,  to  turn  upon  and 
rend  the  ol^ject  flung  in  between  them. 

"Why  Rachel  Bond  don't  come  here  any  more?  " 
said  Mrs.  Grimes,  with  a  sniflf  that  was  one  of  the 
keenest-edged  weapons  in  her  controversial  armory. 
"  When  you  know  Rachel  Bond  as  well  as  I  do,  you'll 
know  how  little  likely  she  is  to  do  anything  that's  not 
going  to  Idc  for  her  benefit  in  some  way.  She's  mighty 
particular  in  everything,  but  more  particular  in  that 
than  in  anything  else." 

"  I'll  admit  that  there  is  reason  to  suspect  a  strain 
of  selfishness  in  Rachel's  nature,"  said  Anna  Bayne  ; 
"but  it's  the  only  blemish  among  her  many  good 
qualities.  Still,  I  think  you  do  her  an  injustice  in 
attributing  her  absence  from  our  meetings  to  purely 
selfish  motives." 

"Of  course,  we  all  know  what  you  mean,"  said 
Elmira.  "She  set  her  cap  for  Harry  Glen,  and 
played  her  cards  so  openly  and  boldly  — " 

"I  should  say  'shamelessly,'"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Grimes. 


60  THE   RED   ACORN. 

"  Shamelessly,  my  dear?  "  This  from  Mrs.  Tufis, 
as  if  in  mild  expostulation. 

"  Shamelessly,"  repeated  Mrs.  Grimes,  firmly. 

'"Well,  so  shamelessly,  if  you  choose,"  continued 
Elmira,  "as  to  incur  the  ill-will  of  all  the  rest  of  the 
girls  —  " 

"Whom  she  beat  at  a  game  in  which  they  all 
played  their  best,"  interrupted  Anna. 

"That's  an  miworthy  insinuation,"  said  Elmira, 
getting  very  red.  "At  least,  no  one  can  say  I  played 
any  cards  for  that  stake." 

"AVasn't  it  because  all  your  trumps  and  suit  had 
been  played  out  in  previous  games  '(  "  This  from  Mrs. 
Grimes,  whose  smarting  wounds  still  called  for  ven- 
geance. 

For  an  instant  a  resumption  of  hostilities  was 
threatened.     Mrs.  Tufis' hastened  to  interpose: 

"  There's  no  doubt  in  my  mintl  that  the  poor,  dear 
girl  really  took  very  deeply  to  heart  the  stories  that 
have  been  circulated  about  Harr}'  Glen's  conduct, 
though  there  are  people  ready  to  say  that  she  was 
quite  willing  to  play  the  r6le  of  the  stricken  one.  It 
really  makes  her  look  very  interesting.  Mourning, 
and  the  plain  style  of  wearing  her  hair  suit  her  very, 
ve?'i/  well.  I  do  not  think  I  ever  saw  her  looking  so 
lovely  as  she  has  lately,  and  I  have  heard  quite  a 
number  of  gentlemen  say  the  same  thing. 

"If  she'd  had  real  spirit,"  said  Mrs.  Grimes, 
"she'd  have  dropped  Harry  Glen  without  all  this 
heroine-of-a-yellow-covered-novel  demonstration,  and 
showed  her  contempt  of  the  fellow  by  going  ahead 
just  as  usual,  pretending  that  his  conduct  was  nothing 


UNT-SCRAPING   AND   BANDAGE-MAKING   UNION.         61 

to  her  ;  but  she's  a  deep  one.  I'll  venture  anything 
she's  got  a  well-laid  scheme,  that  none  of  us  dream  of." 

"  Mrs.  Tufis," — it  was  the  calm,  even  tones  of 
Rachel  Bond's  voice  that  fell  upon  the  startled  ears 
of  the  little  coterie  of  gossipers.  She  had  glided  in 
unobserved  by  them  in  the  earnestness  of  their  debate. 
How  long  has  she  been  here  and  what  has  she  heard  ? 
was  the  thrilling  question  that  each  addressed  to  her- 
self. When  they  summoned  courage  to  look  up  at 
her,  they  saw  her  standing  with  perfectly  composed 
mien,  her  pale  face  bearing  the  pensive  expression  it 
had  worn  for  weeks.  With  subdued  and  kindly  man- 
ner she  returned  the  affectionate  greetings  that  each 
bestowed  on  her,  in  imitation  of  Mrs.  Tufis,  who  was 
the  first  to  recover  her  wits,  and  then  continued  : 

"  Mrs.  Tufis,  I  come  to  you,  as  president  of  this 
society,  to  apologize  for  my  absence  from  so  many 
of  your  meetings,  and  to  excuse  myself  on  the  ground 
of  indisposition."  (Mrs.  Grimes  darted  a  significant 
look  at  Elmira.)  "I  also  want  to  announce  that,  as 
I  have  determined  to  join  the  corps  of  nurses  for  the 
field  hospitals,  which  Miss  Dix,  of  New  York,  is  organ- 
izing, and  as  1  will  start  for  the  front  soon,  I  shall 
have  to  ask  you  to  excuse  me  from  any  farther  attend- 
ance upon  your  meetings,  and  drop  my  name  from 
your  roll." 

She  replied  pleasantly  to  a  flood  of  questions  and 
expostulations,  which  the  crowd  that  gathered  around 
poured  upon  her,  and  turning,  walked  quietly  away 
to  her  home. 


THE  RED  ACOEN. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE      AWAKENING. 

The  nobler  nature  within  him  stirred 
To  life,  at  that  woman's  deed  and  word. 

— Whittiek. 

DEEPER  emotions  than  he  had  felt  before  in  all 
his  life  of  shallow  aiinlessness  stirred  Harry 
Glen's  bosom  as  he  turned  away  from  the  door  which 
Rachel  Bond  closed  ))ehind  her  with  a  decisive  prompt- 
ness that  chorded  well  with  her  resolute  composure 
during  the  interview. 

This  blow  fell  much  more  heavily  than  any  that 
had  preceded  it,  because  it  descended  from  the  tower- 
ing height  to  which  he  had  raised  his  expectations  of 
an  ardent  greeting  from  a  loving  girl,  eagerly  watch- 
ing for  his  return. 

As  was  to  be  expected  from  one  of  his  nature,  he 
forgot  entirely  his  ruminations  upon  the  advisability 
of  discarding  her,  and  the  difficulty  he  experienced 
in  devising  a  plan  whereby  this  could  be  done  easily 
and  gracefully.  He  onh^  thought  of  himself  as  the 
blameless  victim  of  a  woman's  fickleness.  The  bitter 
things  he  had  read  and  heard  of  the  sex's  inconstancy 
rose  in  his  mind,  as  acrid  bile  sometimes  ascends  in 
one's  throat. 

"Here,"  he  said  to  himself,  "is  an  instance  of 
feminine  perfidy  equal  to  an3'thing  that  Byron  ever 
sneered  at.     This  girl,  who  was  so  proud  to  receive 


THE   AWAKENING.  63 

my  attentions  a  little  while  ago,  and  who  so  gladly 
accepted  me  for  her  promised  husband,  now  turns 
away  at  the  slightest  cloud  of  disapproval  falling  upon 
me.  And  to  think,  too,  how  I  have  given  her  all 
my  heart,  and  lavished  upon  her  a  love  as  deep  and 
true  as  ever  a  man  gave  a  woman." 

He  was  sure  that  he  had  been  so  badly  used  as  to 
have  sufficient  grounds  for  turning  misanthrope  and 
woman-hater.  Thin  natures  are  like  light  wines  and 
weak  sirups  in  the  readiness  with  which  they  sour. 

The  moon  had  risen  as  it  did  on  that  eventful 
betrothal-night.  Again  the  stars  had  sunk  from  sight 
in  the  sea  of  silver  splendor  rolling  from  the  round, 
full  orb.  Again  the  roadway  down  the  hill  lay  like 
a  web  of  fine  linen,  bleaching  upon  an  emerald  mead- 
ow. Again  the  clear  waters  of  the  Miami  rippled  in 
softly  merry  music  over  the  white  limestone  of  their 
shallow  bed.  Again  the  river,  winding  through  the 
pleasant  valley,  framed  in  gently  rising  hill-sides, 
appeared  as  a  great  silver  ribbon,  decorating  a  mass 
of  heavily-embroidered  green  velvet.  Again  Sardis 
lay  at  the  foot  of  the  hills,  its  coarse  and  common- 
place outlines  softened  into  glorious  symmetry  by  the 
moonlight's  wondrous  witchery. 

He  stopped  for  a  moment  and  glanced  at  the 
old  apple-tree,  under  which  they  had  stood  when 

"  Their  spirits  rushed  together  at  the  meetiug  of  their  lips." 

But  its  raiment  of  odorous  blossoms  was  gone.  In- 
stead, it  bore  a  load  of  shapeless,  sour,  unripened 
fruit.  Instead  of  the  freshly  springing  grass  at  its 
foot  was  now  a  coarse  stubble.     Instead  of  the  deli- 


64  THE   RED    ACORN 

cately  sweet  breath  of  violets  and  fruit  blooms  scent- 
ing the  evening  air  came  the  heavy,  persistent  per- 
fume of  tuberoses,  and  the  mawldsh  scent  of  gaudy 
poppies. 

"Bah,  it  smells  like  a  funeral,"  he  said,  and  he 
turned  away  and  walked  slowly  down  the  hill.  ' '  And 
it  is  one.  My  heart  and  all  my  hopes  lie  buried  at 
the  foot  of  that  old  apple-tree. " 

It  had  been  suggested  that  much  of  the  sympathy 
we  lavish  upon  martyrs  is  wanton  waste,  because  to 
many  minds,  if  not  in  fact  to  all,  there  is  a  positive 
pleasure  in  considering  oneself  a  martyr.  More  abso- 
lute truth  is  contained  in  this  than  appears  at  the  first 
blush.  There  are  very  few  who  do  not  roll  under 
their  tongues  as  a  sweet  morsel  the  belief  that  their 
superior  goodness  or  generosity  has  brought  them 
trouble  and  affliction  from  envious  and  wicked  infe- 
riors. 

So  the  honey  that  mingled  with  the  gall  and  hys- 
sop of  Harry  Glen's  humiliation  was  the  martyr  feel- 
ing that  his  holiest  affections  had  been  ruthlessly 
trampled  upon  by  a  cold-hearted  woman.  His  desul- 
tory readings  of  Byron  furnished  his  imagination 
with  all  the  woful  suits  and  trappings  necessary  to 
trick  himself  out  as  a  melancholy  hero. 

On  his  way  home  he  had  to  pass  the  principal 
hotel  in  the  place,  the  front  of  which  on  Summer 
evenings  was  the  Sardis  forum  for  the  discussion  of 
national  politics  and  local  gossip.  As  he  approached 
quietly  along  the  grassy  walk  he  overheard  his  own 
name  used.  He  stepped  back  into  the  shadow  of  a 
large  maple  and  listened  : 


THE    AWAKENING.  66 

"Yes,  I  seen  him  as  he  got  off  the  train,"  said 
Nels  Hathaway,  big,  fat,  lazy,  and  the  most  invet- 
erate male  gossip  in  the  village.  "And  he  is  looking 
mighty  well  —  yes,  mighty  well.  I  said  to  Tim  Bot- 
kins,  here,  '  what  a  wonderful  constitution  Harry 
Glen  has,  to  be  sure,  to  stand  the  hardships  of  the 
field  so  well.'" 

The  sarcasm  was  so  evident  that  Harry's  blood 
seethed.  The  Tim  Botkins  alluded  to  had  been 
dubbed  by  Basil  Wurmset,  the  cynic  and  wit  of  the 
village,  "apt  appreciation's  artful  aid."  Red-haired, 
soft  eyed,  moon-fticed,  round  of  belly  and  lymphatic 
of  temperament,  his  principal  occupation  in  life  was 
to  play  a  fiddle  in  the  Sardis  string-band,  and  in  the 
intervals  of  professional  engagements  at  dances  and 
picnics,  to  fill  one  of  the  large  splint-bottomed  chairs 
in  front  of  the  hotel  with  his  pulpy  form,  and  receive 
the  smart  or  bitter  sayings  of  the  loungers  there  with 
a  laugh  that  began  before  any  one  else's,  and  lasted 
after  the  others  had  gotten  through.  His  laugh  alone 
was  as  good  as  that  of  all  the  rest  of  the  crowd.  It 
was  not  a  hearty,  resonant  laugh,  like  that  from  the 
mouth  of  a  strong-lunged,  wholesome-natured  man, 
which  has  the  mellow  roundness  of  a  solo  on  a  French 
horn.  It  was  a  slovenly,  greasy,  convictionless 
laugh,  with  uncertain  tones  and  ill-defined  edges.  Its 
effect  was  due  to  its  volume,  readiness,  and  long  con- 
tinuance. Swelling  up  of  the  puffy  form,  and  redden- 
ing ripples  of  the  broad  face  heralded  it,  it  began 
with  a  contagious  cackle,  it  deepened  into  a  flabby 
guffaw,  and  after  all  the  others  roundabout  had  fin- 
ished their  cachinnatory  tribute  it  wound  up  with 
E  3* 


66  THE   RED   ACORN. 

what  was  between  a  roar  and  the  lazy  drone  of  a  bag- 
pipe. 

It  now  rewarded  Nels  Hathaway's  irony,  and  the 
rest  of  the  loungers  joined  in.  Encouraged,  Nels 
continued,  as  its  last  echoes  died  away  : 

"Yes,  he's  just  as  spry  and  peart  as  anybody. 
He  seems  to  have  recovered  entirely  from  all  his 
wounds  ;  none  of  'em  have  disfiggered  him  any,  and 
his  nerves  have  got  over  their  terrible  strain. " 

Tim  ran  promptly  through  all  the  notes  in  his 
diapason,  and  the  rest  joined  in  on  the  middle  register. 

"Well,  Fm  not  at  all  surprised,"  said  Mr. 
Oldunker,  a  bitter  States'  Rights  Democrat,  and  the 
oracle  of  his  party.  "I  told  you  how  it'd  be  from 
the  first.  Harry  Glen  was  one  of  them  Wide-A wakes 
that  marched  around  on  pleasant  evenings  last  Fall 
with  oil-cloth  capes  and  kerosene  lamps.  I  told  you 
that  those  fellows'd  be  no  where  when  the  war  they 
were  trying  to  bring  on  came.  I'm  not  at  all  aston- 
ished that  he  showed  himself  lil3''-livered  when  he 
found  the  people  that  he  was  willing  to  rob  of  their 
property  standing  ready  to  fight  for  their  homes  and 
their  slaves." 

"Ready  to  shoot  into  a  crowd  of  unsuspecting 
men,  you  mean,''  sneered  Basil  Wurmset,  "and  then 
break  their  own  cursed  necks  when  they  saw  a  little 
cold  steel  coming  their  way." 

Tim  came  in  promply  with  his  risible  symphony. 

"AVelK  they  didn't  run  away  from  any  cold  steel 
that  Harry  Glen  displayed,''  sneered  Oldunker. 

Tim's  laugh  was  alh^irro  and  crescendo  at  the  first, 
and  staccato  at  the  close. 


THE    AWAKENING.  67 

"You  seem  to  forget  that  Capt.  Bob  Bennett  was 
a  Wide- Awake,  too,"  retorted  Wurmset,  "though 
you  might  have  remembered  it  from  his  having  threat 
ened  to  lick  you  for  encouraging  the  boys  to  stone  the 
lamps  in  the  procession." 

Tim  cackled,  gurgled  and  roared. 

Nels  Hathaway  had  kept  silent  as  long  as  he 
could.  He  must  put  his  oar  into  the  conversational 
tide. 

"I'd  give  six  bits,"  he^  said,  "to  know  how  the 
meeting  between  him  and  Rachel  Bond  passes  off. 
He's  gone  up  to  the  house.  The  hoys  seen  him,  all 
dressed  up  in  his  best.  But  his  finery  and  his  per- 
fumed handkerchiefs  won't  count  anything  with  her, 
I  can  tell  you.  She  comes  of  lighting  stock,  if  ever  a 
woman  did.  The  Bonds  and  Harringtons  —  her 
mother's  people  —  are  game  breeds,  both  of  'em.  and 
stand  right  on  their  record,  every  time.  Shell  have 
precious  little  traffic  with  a  white-feathered  fellow. 
I  think  she's  been  preparing  for  him  the  coldest 
shoulder  any  young  feller  in  Sardis's  got  for  many  a 
long  day. " 

There  vvas  nothing  very  funny  in  this  speech,  but 
a  good  deal  of  risible  matter  had  accumulated  in 
Tim's  diaphragm  during  its  delivery  which  he  had  to 
get  rid  of,  and  he  did. 

Harry  had  heard  enough.  While  Tim's  laugh  yet 
resounded  he  walked  away  unnoticed,  and  taking  a 
roundabout  course  gained  his  room.  There  he  re- 
mained a  week,  hardly  coming  down  to  his  meals. 
It  was  a  terrible  week  to  him,  for  every  waking  hour 
of    it  he  walked    through    the    valley    of    humilia- 


68  THE    RED    AGORN. 

tion,  and  drank  the  bitter  waters  of  shame.  The 
joints  of  his  hitherto  impenetrable  armor  of  self- 
conceit  had  been  so  pierced  by  the  fine  rapier  thrusts 
of  Rachel's  scorn  that  it  fell  from  him  under  the 
coarse  pounding  of  the  village  loungers  and  left  him 
naked  and  defenseless  to  their  blows.  Every  nerve 
and  sense  ached  with  acute  pain.  He  now  felt  all  of 
his  father's  humiliation,  all  his  mother's  querulous 
sorrow,  all  his  betrothed's  anguish  and  abasement. 

Thoughts  of  suicide,  and  of  ^ying  to  some  part  of 
the  country  where  he  was  entirely  unknown,  crowded 
upon  him  incessantly.  But  with  that  perversity  that 
nature  seemingly  delights  in,  there  had  arisen  in  his 
heart  since  he  had  lost  her,  such  a  love  for  Rachel 
Bond  as  made  life  without  her,  or  without  her  esteem 
even,  seem  valueless.  To  go  into  a  strange  part  of 
the  country  and  begin  life  anew  would  be  to  give  her 
up  forever,  and  this  he  could  not  do.  It  would  be 
much  preferable  to  die  demonstrating  that  he  was  in 
some  degree  worthy  of  her.  And  a  latent  manly 
pride  awakened  and  came  to  his  assistance.  He 
could  not  be  the  son  of  his  proud,  iron-willed  fiither 
without  some  transmission  of  that  sire's  courageous 
qualities.  He  formed  his  resolution  :  He  would  stay 
in  Sardis,  and  recover  his  honor  where  he  had 
lost  it. 

At  the  end  of  the  week  he  heard  the  drums  beat, 
the  cannon  fire,  and  the  people  cheer.  The  company 
had  come  home,  and  was  marching  proudly  down  the 
street  to  a  welcome  as  enthusiastic  as  if  its  members 
were  bronzed  veterans  returning  victoriously  from  a 
campaign  that  had  lasted  for  years. 


THE    AWAKENING.  69 

His  mother  told  hiui  the  next  day  that  the  com- 
pany had  decided  to  re-enlist  for  three  years  or 
during  the  war,  and  that  a  meeting  would  be  held 
that  evening  to  carry  the  intention  into  execution. 
When  the  evening  came  Harry  walked  into  the  town 
hall,  dressed  as  carefully  as  he  had  prepared  himself 
for  his  visit  to  Rachel.  He  found  the  whole  company 
assembled  there,  the  members  smoking,  chatting  with 
their  friends,  and  recounting  to  admiring  hearers  the 
wonderful  experiences  they  had  gone  through.  The 
enlistment  papers  were  being  prepared,  and  some  of 
the  boys  who  had  not  been  examined  during  the  day 
were  undergoing  the  surgeon's  inspection  in  an  ad- 
joining room. 

Harry  was  coldly  received  by  everybody,  and 
winced  a  little  under  this  contrast  with  the  attentions 
that  all  the  others  were  given. 

At  last  all  the  papers  and  rolls  seemed  to  be 
signed,  and  there  was  a  lull  in  the  proceedings. 
Harry  rose  from  his  seat,  as  if  to  address  the  meet- 
ing.    Instantly  all  was  silence  and  attention. 

"  Comrades,"  he  said,  in  a  firm,  even  voice,  "I 
have  come  to  say  to  you  that  1  feel  that  I  made  a 
mistake  during  our  term  of  service,  and  I  want  to 
apologize  to  you  for  my  conduct  then.  More  than 
tliis,  I  want  to  redeem  myself.  I  want  to  go  with 
you  again,  and  have  another  chance  to " 

He  was  interrupted  by  an  enthusiastic  shout  from 
them  all. 

"  Hurrah  !  Bully  for  Lieutenant  Glen  !  Of 
course  we'll  give  you  another  show.  Come  right 
along  in  your  old  place,  and  welcome." 


70  THE    RED   ACORN. 

There  was  but  one  dissenting  voice.  It  was  that 
of  Jake  Alspaugh  : 

"  No,  I'll  be  durned  if  we  want  ye  along  anymore. 
We've  no  place  for  sich  fellers  with  us.  We  only 
want  them  as  has  sand  in  their  craws." 

But  the  protest  Avas  overslaughed  by  the  multi- 
tude of  assents.  At  the  tirst  interA-.d  of  silence 
Harry  said  : 

"No,  comrades,  Til  not  accept  a  commission  again 
until  Tm  sure  I  can  do  it  credit.  I'll  enlist  in  the 
company  on  the  same  footing  as  the  rest  of  the  boys, 
and  share  everything  with  you.  Give  the  lieuten- 
ancy to  our  gallant  comrade  Alspaugh,  who  has 
richly  earned  it." 

The  suggestion  was  accepted  with  more  enthu- 
siastic cheering,  and  IJarry,  going  up  to  the  desk, 
tilled  out  an  enlistment  blank,  signed  it  and  the  com- 
pany roll,  and  retired  with  the  surgeon  for  the  phys- 
ical examination.  This  finished,  he  slipped  out  un- 
noticed and  went  to  his  home.  On  his  way  thither 
he  saw  Rachel  as  she  passed  a  brilliantly  lighted 
show-window.  She  was  in  traveling  costume,  and 
seemed  to  be  going  to  the  depot.  She  turned  her 
head  slightly  and  bowed  a  formal  recognition. 

As  their  eyes  met  he  saw  enough  to  make  him  be- 
lieve that  what  he  had  done  met  her  approval. 


POMP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE   OF   GLORIOUS   WAR.         71 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE   OF   GLORIOUS   WAR. 

But  man,  proud  man, 
Dressed  In  a  little  brief  authority. 
Most  Ignorant  of  what  he's  most  assured. 

Plays  such  fantastic  tricks  before  high  Heaven 
As  make  the  angels  weep,  who,  with  our  spleens. 
Would  all  themselves  laugh  mortal. 

—Measure  for  Measure. 

"  A  BE,  you  remember  how  that  man  who  made 
-^^^  the  speech  when  our  colors  were  presented 
to  us  talked  of  '  the  swelling  hearts  of  our  volunteers,' 
don't  you?"  said  Kent  Edwards,  as  he  and  Abe 
Bolton  lounged  near  the  parade-ground  one  fine  after- 
noon, shortly  after  the  arrival  of  the  regiment  in 
camp  of  instruction.  "  You  remember  that  that  was 
his  favorite  figure  of  rhetoric,  and  he  repeated  it  sev- 
eral times  ? " 

''Don't  know  anything  about  figger  of  retterick," 
growled  Abe,  who,  his  comrades  said,  had  the  evenest 
temper  in  the  regiment,  ''for  he  was  always  mad.  " 
"But  I  do  remember  that  he  said  that  over  several 
times,  with  a  lot  o'  other  things  without  much  pint  to 
'em,  until  I  thought  I'd  drop,  I  was  so  thirsty  and 
tired." 

"Yes?  Well,  now  if  you  want  to  get  a  good 
idea  of  what  that  expression  meant,  look  over  there. 
Not  only  his  heart  swells,  but  he  swells  all  over." 

"  I  should  think  he  did,"  replied  Abe,  after  a  mo- 


72  THE    RED    ACORX. 

ment's  inspection.  "  Unless  his  hut  hiir?  an  Injy-rub- 
ber  band,  he'll  have  to  git  it  cut  offen  his  head,  which 
ought  to  be  hooped,  for  it  can't  swell  no  more  with- 
out busting." 

It  was  Jacob  Alspaugh  crossing  the  parade  ground 
in  more  than  Solomonic  splendor  of  uniform.  His 
inflated  form  bore  upon  it  all  the  blue  and  tinsel  pre- 
scribed by  the  Army  Regulations  for  the  raiment  and 
insignia  of  a  First  Lieutenant  of  Infantry,  with  such 
additions  as  had  been  suggested  by  his  exuberant 
fancy.  His  blue  l^roadcloth  was  the  tinest  and  shiniest. 
Buttons  and  bugles  seemed  masses  of  barbaric  gold. 
From  broad-l)rimmed  hat  floated  the  longest  ostrich 
feather  procural)le  in  the  shops.  Shining  leather 
boots,  field-marshal  patteni,  came  above  his  knees. 
Yellow  gauntlets  covered  his  massive  hands  and  reached 
nearly  to  his  elbows,  and  on  his  broad  shoulders  were 
great  glittering  epaulets— then  seldom  worn  by  any- 
one, and  still  more  rarely  by  volunteer  officers.  He 
evidently  disdained  to  hide  the  crimson  glories  of  his 
sash  in  the  customary  modest  way,  by  folding  it 
under  his  belt,  but  had  made  of  it  a  broad  bandage 
for  his  abdominal  regions,  which  gave  him  the  appear- 
ance of  some  gigantic  crimson-breasted  blue-bird. 
Behind  him  trailed,  clanking  on  the  ground  as  he 
walked,  not  the  modest  little  sword  of  his  rank,  but  a 
long  cavalry  saber,  with  glittering  steel  scabbard. 
But  the  sheen  of  gold  and  steel  was  dimmed  be- 
side the  glow  of  intense  satisfoction  with  his  make-up 
that  shone  in  his  face.  There  might  be  alloy  in  his 
gleaming  buttons  and  bullion  epaulets ;  there  was 
none  in  his  happiness. 


POMP   AND   CIRCUMSTANCE    OF   GLOKIOU.S    WAR.  73 

•'I  feel  sorry  for  the  poor  lilies  of  the  field  thiit 
he  comes  near,"  sighed  Kent,  S3^mputhetically.  "He 
is  like  them  now,  in  neither  toiling  nor  spinning,  and 
yet  how  ashamed  he  nnist  make  them  of  their  inferior 
raiment." 

"Faugh  !  it  makes  me  sick  to  see  a  dunghill  like 
that  strutting  around  in  feathers  that  belong  to  game 
birds." 

"O,  no;  no  game  bird  ever  wore  such  plumage 
as  that.  You  must  be  thinking  of  a  peacock,  or  a 
bird-of-paradise. " 

"Well,  then,  blast  it,  I  hate  to  see  a  peacock 
hatched  all  at  once  out  of  a  slinking,  roupy,  barnyard 
rooster. " 

"O,  no ;  since  circuses  are  out  of  the  question 
now,  we  ought  to  be  glad  of  so  good  a  substitute.  It 
only  needs  a  brass  band,  with  some  colored  posters, 
to  be  a  genuine  grand  entry,  with  street  parade." 

Alspaugh's  triumphal  march  had  now  brought  him 
within  a  few  feet  of  them,  but  they  continued  to 
lounge  indifferently  on  the  musket  box  upon  which 
they  had  been  sitting,  giving  a  mere  nod  as  recogni- 
tion of  his  presence,  and  showing  no  intention  of  ris- 
ing to  salute. 

The  glow  of  satisfaction  faded  from  Alspaugh's 
horizon,  and  a  cloud  overcast  it. 

"Here,  you  fellers,"  he  said  angrily,  "  why  don't  ye 
git  up  an'  saloot  ?     Don't  ye  know  your  business  yit  ?  " 

"What  business,  Jake?"  asked  Kent  Edwards, 
absently,  paying  most  attention  to  a  toad  which  had 
hopped  out  from  the  cover  of  a  burdock  leaf,  in  search 
of  insects  for  his  supper. 
4 


74  THE    RED   ACORN. 

Al?>p;morh's  face  grew  blacker.  ''The  business  of 
paying  pi'oper  respect  to  your  officers/' 

"It  hasn't  occurred  to  me  that  I  am  neglecting 
anything  in  that  line,"  said  Kent,  languidly,  shifting 
over  to  recline  upon  his  left  elbow,  and  with  his  right 
hand  gathering  up  a  little  gravel  to  flip  at  the  toad  ; 
"but  maybe  you  are  better  acquainted  with  our  l)usi- 
ness  than  we  are." 

Abe  contributed  to  the  dialogue  a  scornful  laugh, 
indicative  of  a  most  heartless  disbelief  in  his  superior 
officer's  superior  intellectuality. 

The  dark  cloud  burst  in  storm:  "Don't  you 
know,"  said  Alspaugh,  angry  in  every  fiber,  "  that 
the  reggerlations  say  that  'when  an  enlisted  man  sees 
an  officei-  ai)pr()ach,  he  will  rise  and  saloot,  and 
remain  standin'  and  gazin'  in  a  respectful  manner 
until  the  officer  passes  tive  paces  beyond  him? '  Say, 
don't  you  know  that  t " 

Kent  Edw\ards  flipped  a  bit  of  gravel  with  sucii 
good  aim  that  it  struck  the  toad  fairly  on  the  head, 
who  l)linked  his  bright  eyes  in  surprise,  and  hopped 
back  to  his  covert.  "I  am  really  glad,"  said  he,  "  to 
know  that  you  have  learned  HoniPthing  of  the  regula- 
tions. Now,  don't  say  another  word  about  it  until  I 
run  down  to  the  company  quarters  and  catch  a  fellow 
for  a  bet,  who  wants  to  put  up  money  that  you  can 
never  learn  a  single  sentence  of  them.  Don't  say 
another  word,  and  you  can  stand  in  with  me  on  the 
bet." 

"Had  your  head  measured  since  you  got  this 
idea  into  it  ? "  asked  Abe  Bolton,  with  well-assumed 
interest. 


POSIP  AND   CIRCUMSTANCE  OF  GLORIOUS   WAR.  ^5 

''  If  he  did,  he  had  to  use  a  surveyor's  chain," 
suggested  Kent,  flipping  another  small  pebble  in  the 
direction  of  the  toad's  retreat. 

Alspaugh  hud  grown  so  great  upon  the  liberal  feed 
of  the  meat  of  flattery,  that  he  could  hardly  make 
himself  believe  he  had  heard  aright,  and  that  these 
men  did  not  care  a  tig  for  himself  oi'  his  authority. 
Then  recovering  confidence  in  the  fidelity  of  his  ears, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  such  conduct  was  aggravated 
mutiu\',  which  military  discipline  demanded  should 
receive  condign  punishment  on  the  spot.  Had  he  any 
confidence  in  his  ability  to  use  the  doughty  weapon  at 
his  side,  he  would  not  have  resisted  the  strong  temp- 
tation to  draw  his  sword  and  make  an  example  then 
and  there  of  the  contemners  of  his  power  and  magnifi- 
cence. But  the  culprits  had  shown  such  an  aptitude 
in  the  use  of  arms  as  to  inspire  his  wholesome  respect, 
and  he  was  very  far  from  sure  that  they  might  not 
make  a  display  of  his  broadsword  an  occasion  for 
heaping  fresh  ridicule  upon  him.  An  opportune 
remembrance  came  to  his  aid  : 

''If  it  wasn't  for  the  strict  orders  we  oflficers  got 
yesterday  not  to  allow  ourselves  to  be  provoked  under 
any  circumstances  into  striking  our  men,  I'd  learn 
you  fellers  mighty  quick  not  to  insult  your  superior 
oflScers.  I'd  bring  you  to  time,  I  can  tell  you.  But 
I'll  settle  with  you  yit.  I'll  have  you  in  the  guard 
house  on  bread  and  water  in  short  meter,  and  then  I'll 
learn  you  to  be  respectful  and  obedient." 

"  He  means  '  teach,'  instead  of  '  learn,' "  said  Kent, 
apologetically,  to  Abe.  "It's  just  awful  to  have  a 
man,  wearing  shoulder-straps,  abuse   English  gram- 


76  THE   RED   ACORN. 

mar  in  that  way.  What's  grammar  done  to  hini  to 
deserve  such  treatment  ?  He  hasn't  even  a  speaking 
acquaintance  with  it." 

"I  'spose  it's  because  gi'ammar  can't  hit  back. 
That's  the  kind  he  always  picks  on,"  answered  Abe. 

"You'll  pay  for  this,"  shouted  Alspaugh,  striding 
off  after  the  Sergeant  of  the  Guard. 

At  that  moment  a  little  drummer  appeared  by  the 
flagstaflf,  and  beat  a  livel}^  rataplan. 

"That's  for  dress-parade,"  said  Kent  Edwards, 
rising.  "We'd  better  skip  right  over  to  quarters  and 
fall  in." 

"Wish  their  dress-parades  were  in  the  brimstone 
flames,''  growled  Abe  Bolton,  as  he  rose  to  accom- 
pany his  comrade.  "  All  they're  for  is  to  stand  up  as 
a  background,  to  show  oflf  a  lot  of  spruce  young  offi- 
cers dressed  in  ftmcy  rigs  " 

"  Well,"  said  Kent,  lightly,  as  the}^  walked  along, 
"I  kind  of  like  that  ;  don't  you  ?  We  make  pictur- 
esque backgrounds,  don't  we  ?  you  and  I,  especially  ; 
you,  the  soft,  tender,  lithe  and  willowy  ;  and  I,  the 
frowning,  rugged  and  adamantine,  so  to  speak.  I 
think  the  background  business  is  our  best  hold." 

He  laughed  heartily  at  his  own  sarcasm,  but  Abe 
was  not  to  be  moved  by  such  frivolity,  and  answered 
glumly  : 

"O,  yes;  laugh  about  it,  if  you  choose.  That's 
your  wa}' :  giggle  over  everything.  But  when  I  play 
l)ackground,  I  want  it  to  be  with  something  worth 
while  in  the  foreground.  I  don't  hanker  after  making 
myself  a  foil  to  show  off  such  fellers  as  our  officers 
are,  to  good  advantajje." 


POMP  AND  CIRCUMSTANCE  OF  GLORIOUS  WAR.    77 

"That  don't  bother  me  any  more  than  it  does  a 
mountain  to  serve  as  a  backgromid  for  a  nanny  goat 
and  a  pair  of  sore-eyed  mules  !  " 

"  Yes,  but  the  mountain  sometimes  has  an  oppor- 
tunity to  drop  an  avalanche  on  'em. " 

At  this  point  of  the  discussion  they  arrived  at  the 
company  grounds,  and  had  scarcely  time  to  snatch 
up  their  guns  and  don  their  belts  before  the  company 
moved  out  to  take  its  place  in  the  regimental  line. 

The  occasion  of  Lieutenant  Alspaugh's  elaborate 
personal  ornamentation  now  manifested  itself  By 
reason  of  Captain  Bennett's  absence,  he  was  in  com- 
mand of  the  company,  and  was  about  to  make  his  first 
appearance  on  parade  in  that  capacity.  Two  or  three 
young  women,  of  the  hollyhock  order  of  beauty, 
whom  he  was  very  anxious  to  impress,  had  been 
brought  to  camp,  to  witness  his  apotheosis  into  a  com- 
manding officer. 

The  moment,  however,  that  he  placed  himself  at 
the  head  of  the  company  and  drew  sword,  the  chill 
breath  of  distrust  sent  the  mercury  of  his  self-con- 
fidence down  to  zero.  It  looked  so  easy  to  command 
a  company  when  some  one  else  was  doing  it ;  it  was 
hard  when  he  tried  it  himself  All  the  imps  of  confu- 
sion held  high  revel  in  his  mind  when  he  attempted 
to  give  the  orders  which  he  had  conned  until  he  sup- 
posed he  had  them  "dead-letter  perfect."  He  felt 
his  usually-unfailing  assurance  shrivel  up  under  the 
gaze  of  hundreds  of  mercilessly  critical  eyes.  He 
managed  to  stammer  out : 

"  Attention^  company !  forward^  file  right, 
MARCH  ! " 


78  THE    RED    ACORN. 

But  as  the  company  began  to  execute  the  order,  it 
seemed  to  be  going  just  the  opposite  to  what  he  had 
commanded,  and  he  called  out  excitedly  : 

"  Not  that  way  !  Not  that  way  !  I  said  'file  right,' 
and  you're  going  left." 

"We  are  filing  right,"  answered  some  in  the  com- 
pany. ''You're  turned  around;  that's  what's  the 
matter  with  you.'' 

So  it  was.  He  had  forgotten  that  when  standing 
facing  the  men,  he  must  give  them  orders  in  reverse 
from  what  the  movement  appeared  to  him.  This  in- 
creased his  confusion,  until  all  his  drill  knowledge 
seemed  gone  from  him.  The  sight  of  his  young  lady 
friends,  clad  in  masses  of  primary  colors,  stimulated 
him  to  a  strong  efibrt  to  recover  his  audacity,  and 
bracing  himself  up,  he  began  calling  out  the  guide 
and  step,  with  a  nois}'  confidence  that  made  him  heard 
all  over  the  parade  ground : 

"Left!  left!  left!  Hep!  hep!  hep!  Cast  them 
head  and  eyes  to  the  right ! " 

Trouble  loomed  up  mountainously  as  he  approached 
the  line.  Putting  a  company  into  its  place  on  parade 
is  one  of  the  crucial  tests  of  tactical  proficienc3\  To 
march  a  company  to  exactly  the  right  spot,  with  every 
man  keeping  his  proper  distance  from  his  file-leader — 
"  twentj^-eight  inches  from  back  to  breast, "clear  down 
the  column,  so  that  when  the  order  "front"  is  given, 
every  one  turns,  as  if  on  a  pivot,  and  touches  elbows 
with  those  on  each  side  of  him,  in  a  straight,  firm 
wall  of  men,  without  an}'  shambling  "closing  up,"  or 
"side-stepping"  to  the  right  or  left, — to  do  all  this  at 
word  of  command,  looks  very  simple  and  easy  to  the 


POMP   AND   CIRCUMSTANCE    OF   GLORIOUS   WAR.  79 

iioii-niilitaiy  spectator,  as  many  other  very  difficult 
things  look  simple  and  easy  to  the  inexperienced. 
But  really  it  is  only  possible  to  a  thoroughly  drilled 
company,  held  well  in  hand  by  a  competent  com- 
mander. It  is  something  that,  if  done  well,  is  simply 
done  well,  but  if  not  done  well,  is  very  bad.  It  is  like 
an  egg  that  is  either  good  or  utterly  worthless. 

Alspaugh  seemed  fated  to  exhaust  the  category 
of  possible  mistakes.  Coming  on  the  ground  late  he 
found  that  a  gap  had  been  left  in  the  line  for  his 
company  which  was  only  barely  sufficient  to  receive 
it  when  it  was  aligned  and  compactly  "  dressed.'' 

In  his  nervousness  he  halted  the  company  before 
it  had  reached  the  right  of  the  gap  by  ten  paces,  and 
so  left  about  one-quai'ter  of  the  company  lapping  over 
on  the  one  to  his  left.  Even  this  was  done  with  an 
unsightly  jumble.  His  confusion  as  to  the  reversal 
of  right  and  left  still  abode  with  him.  He  com- 
manded "  right  face,''  instead  of  "  front,"  and  was 
amazed  to  see  the  whole  one  hundred  well-drilled 
men  whirl  their  backs  around  to  the  regiment  and 
the  commanding  officer.  A  laugh  rippled  down  the 
ranks  of  the  other  companies  ;  even  the  spectators 
smiled,  and  something  sounded  like  swearing  by  the 
Adjutant  and  Sergeant-Major. 

Alspaugh  lifted  his  plumed  hat,  and  wiped  the 
beaded  perspiration  from  his  brow  with  the  back  of 
one  of  the  yellow  gauntlets. 

"  Order  an  '  about  face,'  "  whispered  the  Orderly- 
Sergeant,  whose  face  was  burning  with  shame  at  the 
awkward  position  in  which  the  company  found 
itself. 


80  THE   RED   ACORN. 

^^  About — FACE  !  "  gasped  Alspaugh. 

The  men  turned  on  their  heels. 

'•  Side-step  to  the  right,"  whispered  the  Orderly. 

''  Side-step  to  the  right,"  repeated  Alspaugh,  me- 
chanically. 

The  men  took  short  side-steps,  and  following  the 
orders  which  Alspaugh  repeated  from  the  whispered 
suggestions  of  the  Orderly,  the  company  came  clum- 
sily forward  into  its  place,  "  dressed,"  and  "opened 
ranks  to  the  rear."  When  at  the  command  of  ''  pa- 
rade-rest," Alspaugh  dropped  his  saber's  point  to  the 
ground,  he  did  it  with  the  crushed  feeling  of  a  strut- 
ting cock  which  has  been  flung  into  the  pond  and 
emerges  with  dripping  feathers. 

He  raised  his  iioart  in  sincere  thanksgiving  that 
he  was  at  last  through,  for  there  was  nothing  more 
for  him  to  do  during  the  parade,  except  to  stand  still, 
and  at  its  conclusion  the  Orderly  would  have  to  march 
the  company  back  to  its  quarters. 

But  his  woes  had  still  another  chapter.  The  In- 
spector-General had  come  to  camp  to  inspect  the  reg- 
iment, and  he  was  on  the  ground. 

Forty  years  of  service  in  the  regular  army,  with 
promotion  averaging  one  grade  every  ten  years, 
making  him  an  old  man  and  a  grandfather  before  he 
was  a  Lieutenant-Colonel,  had  so  surcharged  Col. 
Murbank's  nature  with  bitterness  as  to  make  even 
the  very  air  in  his  vicinity  seem  roughly  astringent. 
The  wicked  young  Lieutenants  who  served  with  him 
on  the  Plains  used  to  say  that  his  bark  was  worse 
than  his  bite,  because  no  reasonable  bite  could  ever 
be  so  bad  as  his  bark.     They  even  suggested  calling 


POMP   AND   CIRCUMSTANCE   OF   GLORIOUS   WAR.  81 

him  "  Peruvian  Bark,"  because  a  visit  to  his  quarters 
was  worse  than  a  strong  dose  of  quinia. 

''  Yeth,  thafth  good,"  said  the  lisping  wit  of  the 
crowd.  ^'Evely  bite  ith  a  bit,  ain't  it?  And  the 
wortht  mutht  be  a  bitter,  ath  he  ith." 

The  Colonel  believed  that  the  whole  duty  of  man 
consisted  in  loving  the  army  regulations,  and  in  keep- 
ing their  commandments.  The  best  part  of  all  virtue 
was  to  observe  them  to  the  letter ;  the  most  abhor- 
rent form  of  vice,  to  violate  or  disregard  even  their 
minor  precepts. 

His  feelings  were  continually  lacerated  by  contact 
with  volunteers,  who  cared  next  to  nothing  for  the 
form  of  war-making,  but  everything  for  its  spirit, 
and  the  martinet  heart  within  him  was  bruised  and 
sore  when  he  came  upon  the  ground  to  inspect  the 
regiment. 

Alspaugh's  blundering  in  bringing  the  company 
into  line  awakened  this  ire  from  a  passivity  to  ac- 
tivity. 

"I'll  have  that  dunderhead's  shoulder-straps  off 
inside  of  a  fortnight,"  he  muttered  between  his 
teeth. 

The  unhappy  Lieutenant's  inability  to  even  stand 
properly  during  the  parade,  or  repeat  an  order  in- 
tensified his  rage.  When  the  parade  was  dismissed 
the  officers,  as  usual,  sheathed  their  swords,  and 
forming  a  line  with  the  Adjutant  in  the  center, 
marched  forward  to  the  commanding  and  inspecting 
officers,  and  saluted.  Then  the  wrath  of  the  old  In- 
spector became  vocable. 

"What  in  God's  name,"  he  roared,  fixing  his  glance 

F 


82  THE   RED   ACORN. 

upon  Alspaugh  so  unmistakably  that  even  the  latter's 
rainbow-clad  girls,  who  had  crowded  up  closely, 
could  not  make  a  mistake  as  to  the  victim  of  the  ex- 
pletives. "  What  in  God's  name,  sir,"  repeated  the 
old  fellow  with  purpling  face,  ''do  you  mean  by 
bringing  your  company  on  to  the  ground  in  that  ab- 
surd way,  sir?  Did  you  think,  sir,  that  it  was  a  hod 
of  brick  —  with  which  I  have  no  doubt  you  are  most 
familiar  —  that  you  could  dump  down  any  place  and 
any  how,  sir  ?  Such  misconduct  is  simplj'  disgrace- 
ful, sir,  I'd  have  you  know.  Simply  disgraceful, 
sir." 

He  paused  for  breath,  but  Alspaugh  had  no  word 
of  defense  to  offer. 

"And  what  do  you  mean,  sir,"  resumed  the  In- 
spector, after  inflating  his  lungs  for  another  gust, 
"what  in  the  name  of  all  the  piebald  circus  clowns 
that  ever  jiggered  around  on  sawdust,  do  3'ou  mean 
by  coming  on  parade  dressed  like  the  ringmaster  of 
a  traveling  monkey-show,  sir?  Haven't  you  any 
more  idea  of  the  honor  of  wearing  a  United  States 
sword  —  the  noblest  weapon  on  earth,  sir  —  than  to 
make  yourself  look  like  the  drum-major  of  a  band  of 
nigger  minstrels,  sir.  Yes,  sir,  the  drum-major  of  a 
band  of  nigger  minsti*els,  sir !  A  United  States 
officer  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  make  a  damned  har- 
lequin of  himself,  sir.  I'd  have  you  to  understand 
that  most  distinctly,  sir." 

The  Inspector's  stock  of  breath,  alas,  was  not  so 
ample  as  in  the  far-off"  days  when  his  sturdy  shoulders 
bore  the  modest  single-bar,  instead  of  the  proud 
spread  eagle  of  the  present.     Even  hai  it  been,  the 


POMP   AND   CIRCUMSTANCE   OF   GLORIOUS   WAR.  83 

explosive  energy  of  his  speech  would  have  speedily 
exhausted  it.  Compelled  to  stop  to  pump  in  a  fresh 
supply,  the  Colonel  of  the  regiment  took  advantage 
of  the  pause  to  whisj^er  in  his  ear  : 

"Don't  be  too  rough  on  him,  please.  He's  a  good 
man  but  green.  Promoted  from  the  ranks  for  cour- 
age in  action.  First  appearance  on  parade.  He'll 
do  better  if  given  a  chance." 

The  Inspector's  anger  was  mollified.  Addressing 
himself  to  all  the  officers,  he  continued  in  a  milder 
tone  : 

"Gentlemen,  you  seem  to  be  making  progress  in 
acquiring  a  knowledge  of  your  duties,  though  you 
have  a  world  of  things  yet  to  learn.  I  shall  say  so  in 
my  report  to  the  General.  You  can  go  to  your  quar- 
ters." 

The  line  of  officers  dissolved,  and  the  spectators 
began  to  melt  away.  Alspaugh's  assurance  rose 
buoyantly  the  moment  that  the  pressure  was  removed. 
He  raised  his  eyes  from  the  ground,  and  looked  for 
the  young  ladies.  They  had  turned  their  backs  and 
were  leaving  the  ground.  He  hastened  after  them, 
fabricating  as  he  walked  an  explanation,  based  on 
personal  jealousy,  of  the  Inspector's  treatment  of 
him.  He  was  within  a  step  of  overtaking  them  when 
he  heard  one  say,  with  toss  of  flaunting  ribbons,  and 
hoidenish  giggle  : 

"  Did  you  ever  see  any-\)0(\.y  wilt  as  Alspaugh  did 
when  old  Bite-Your-Head-Off-In-a-Minute  was  jawing 
him  ?     It  was  so  awfully /«^w;iy  that  I  just  thought  I 

should  DEE." 

The  sentence  ended  with  the  picturesque  rapid 


84  THE   RED   ACORN. 

crescendo  employed  by  maidens  of  her  tyj^e  in  de- 
scribing a  convulsive  experience. 

''Just  didn't  he,"  joined  in  another.  "I  never 
saw  flwy-thing  so  funny  in  all  my  horn  days.  I  was 
afraid  to  look  at  either  one  of  ymt ;  I  knew  if  I  did  I 
would  hnrd  right  out  laughing.  I  couldn't  \v.  heJj»>i/ 
it — I  know  I  coiddny.  if  I'd 'a  knowed  I'd 'a  die// 
the  next  rnimtte.'''' 

''Tliis  would  seem  to  be  a  pretty  good  time  to 
drop  the  fellow,"  added  the  third  girl,  reflectively. 

Alspaugh  turned  and  went  in  another  direction. 
At  the  9  o'clock  roll-call  he  informed  the  company 
that  the  Inspector  was  well  pleased  with  its  appear- 
ance on  parade. 


THE   TEDrUM   OF   CAMP.  86 


CHAPTER  Vm. 

THE      TEDIUM     OF     CAMP. 

And  you,  (?<x)(l  yeoman. 
Whose  limbs  wore  niaUe  in  England,  show  us  here 
The  mettle  of  your  pasture;  let  us  swear 
That  you  are  worth  your  breeding.— 5enry  V. 

TO  really  enjoy  life  in  a  Camp  of  Instruction  re- 
quires a  peculiar  cast  of  mind.  It  requires  a 
genuine  liking  for  a  tread-mill  round  of  merely  me- 
chanical duties  ;  it  requires  a  taste  for  rising  in  the 
chill  and  cheerless  dawn,  at  the  unwelcome  summons 
of  reveille,  to  a  long  day  filled  with  a  tiresome  rou- 
tine of  laborious  drills,  alternating  with  tedious  roll- 
calls,  and  wearisome  parades  and  inspections ;  it 
requires  pleased  contentment  with  walks  continually 
cut  short  by  the  camp-guard,  and  with  amusements 
limited  to  rough  horse-play  on  the  parade-ground, 
and  dull  games  of  cards  by  sputtering  candles  in  the 
tent. 

As  these  be  tastes  and  preferences  notably  absent 
from  the  mind  of  the  average  young  man,  our  vol- 
unteers usually  regard  their  experience  in  Camp  of 
Instruction  as  among  the  most  unpleasant  of  their 
war  memories. 

These  were  the  trials  that  tested  Harry  Glen's 
resolution  sorely.  When  he  enlisted  with  the  inten- 
tion of  redeeming  himself,  he  naturally  expected  that 
the   opportunity   he   desired   would  be   given   by  a 


8fi  THE    RED    ACORN. 

prompt  march  to  the  field,  and  a  speedy  entrance 
into  an  engagement.  He  nerved  himself  strenuously 
for  the  dreadful  ordeal  of  battle,  but  this  became  a 
continually  receding  point.  The  bitter  defeat  at  Bull 
Run  Avas  bearing  fruit  in  months  of  painstaking 
preparation  before  venturing  upon  another  collis- 
ion. 

Day  by  day  he  saw  the  chance  of  retrieving  his 
reputation  apparently  more  remote.  Meanwhile  dis- 
couragements and  annoyances  grew  continually  more 
plentiful  and  irksome.  lie  painfully  learned  that  the 
most  disagreeable  part  of  war  is  not  the  trial  of  bat- 
tle, but  the  daily  sacrifices  of  personal  liberty,  tastes, 
feelings  and  conveniences  involved  in  cann>life,  and 
in  the  reduction  of  one's  cherished  individuality  to 
the  dead-level  of  a  passive,  obedient,  will-less  private 
soldier. 

"  I  do  wish  the  regiment  would  get  orders  to 
move  I  "  said  almost  hourly  each  one  of  a  half-million 
impatient  youths  fretting  in  Camps  of  Instruction 
through  the  long  Summer  of  ISGl. 

"  I  do  wish  the  regiment  would  get  orders  to 
move  I  "  said  Harry  Glen  angi'ily  one  evening,  on 
coming  into  the  Surgeon's  tent  to  have  his  blistered 
hands  dressed.  He  had  been  on  fatigue  duty  during 
the  day,  and  the  Fatigue-Squad  had  had  an  obstinate 
struggle  with  an  old  oak  stump,  which  disfigured  the 
parade-ground,  and  resisted  removal  like  an  Irish  ten- 
ant. 

"  1  am  willing — yes,  I  can  say  I  am  anxious,  even 
—  to  go  into  battle,"  he  continued,  while  Dr.  Paul_ 
Denslow  laid  plasters  of  simple  cerate  on  the  abraded 


THE    TEDIUM    OF   CAMP.  87 

palms,  and  then  swathed  them  in  bandages.  "Any- 
thing is  preferable  to  this  chopping  tough  stumps 
with  a  dull  ax,  and  drilling  six  hours  a  day  while  the 
thermometer  hangs  around  the  nineties." 

"I  admit  that  there  are  things  which  would  seem 
pleasanter  to  a  young  man  of  your  temperament  and 
previous  habits,"  said  the  Surgeon,  kindly.  "Shift 
over  into  that  arm-stool,  wdiich  3'ou  will  find  easier, 
and  rest  a  little  while.  Julius,  bring  in  that  box  of 
cigars." 

WTiile  Julius,  who  resembled  his  illustrious  name- 
sake as  little  in  celerity  of  movement  as  he  did  in 
complexion,  was  coming,  the  Surgeon  prepared  a 
paper,  which  he  presented  to  Harry,  saying : 

"There,  that'll  keep  you  off  duty  to-morrow. 
After  that,  we'll  see  what  can  be  done." 

Julius  arrived  with  the  cigars  as  tardily  as  if  he 
had  had  to  cross  a  Rubicon  in  the  back  room.  Two 
were  lighted,  and  the  Surgeon  settled  himself  for  a 
chat. 

"Plave  3'ou  become  tired  of  soldier-life  ?"' asked 
he,  studying  Harry's  face  for  the  effect  of  the  question. 

"I  can  not  say  that  I  have  become  tired  of  it," 
said  Harry,  frankly,  "because  I  must  admit  that  I 
never  had  the  slightest  inclination  to  it.  I  had  less 
fancy  for  becoming  a  soldier  than  for  any  other  hon- 
orable pursuit  that  you  could  mention," 

"Then  you  only  joined  the  army — " 

"From  a  sense  of  duty  merely,"  said  Harry, 
knocking  the  ashes  from  his  cigar. 

' '  And  the  physical  and  other  discomforts  now  be- 
gin to  weigh  nearly  as  much  as  that  sense  of  duty  ? " 


88  THE    RED    ACORN. 

"  Not  at  all.  It  only  seems  to  iiic  that  there  are 
more  of  them  than  are  absolutely  essential  to  the  per- 
formance of  that  duty.  I  want  to  be  of  service  to  the 
country,  but  I  would  prefer  that  that  service  be  not 
made  unnecessarily  onerous." 

''Quite  natural  ;  quite  natural." 

"For  example,  how  have  tlu-  fatigues  and  pains  of 
ni}'  afternoon's  chojiping  contributed  a  particle  to- 
ward the  suppression  of  the  rebellion  I  What  have 
my  blistered  hands  to  do  with  the  hurts  of  actual  con- 
flict ? " 

"Let  us  admit  that  the  connection  is  somewhat 
obscure,"  said  Doctor  Denslow,  philo.sophically. 

"  It  is  easier  for  you,  than  for  me,  to  view  the 
matter  calmly.  Your  h;mds  are  imhurt.  /  am  the 
galled  jade  whose  withers  are  wrung." 

"Body  and  spirit  both  brui-sed  ? "  said  the  Sur- 
geon, half  reflectively. 

Harry  colored.  "Yes,"  he  said,  rather  defiantly. 
"In  addition  to  desiring  to  serve  my  country,  I  want 
to  vindicate  my  manhood  from  some  aspersions  which 
have  been  cast  upon  it." 

"Quite  a  fair  showing  of  motives.  Better,  per- 
haps, than  usual,  when  a  careful  weighing  of  the 
rehitive  proportions  of  self-esteem,  self-interest  and 
higher  impulses  is  made." 

"  I  am  free  to  say  that  the  discouragements  I  have 
met  with  are  very  difl'erent.  and  perhaps  much  greater 
than  I  contemplated.  Nor  can  I  bring  myself  to  be- 
lieve that  they  are  necessary.  I  am  trying  to  be 
entirely  willing  to  peril  life  and  limb  on  the  field  of 
battle,  but  instead  of  placing  me  where  I  can  do  this. 


THE   TEDIUM   OF   CAMP.  89 

and  allowing  me  to  concentrate  all  my  energies  upon 
that  object,  I  am  kept  for  months  chafing  under  the 
petty  tyrannies  of  a  bullying  officer,  and  deprived  of 
most  of  the  comforts  that  I  have  heretofore  regarded 
as  necessary  to  my  existence.  What  good  can  be  ac- 
comphshed  by  diverting  forces  which  should  be 
devoted  to  the  main  struggle  into  this  ignoble  channel  ? 
That's  what  puzzles  and  irritates  me." 

"  It  seems  to  be  one  of  the  inseparable  conditions 
of  the  higher  forms  of  achievement  that  they  require 
vastly  more  preparation  for  them  than  the  labor  of 
doing  them.''' 

''That's  no  doubt  very  philosophical,  but  it's  not 
satisfactory,  for  all  that." 

"  My  dear  boy,  learn  this  grand  truth  now  :  That 
philosophy  is  never  satisfactory  ;  it  is  only  mitigatory. 
It  consists  mainly  in  saying  with  many  fine  words  : 
'What  can't  be  cured  must  be  endured.'  " 

''I  presume  that  is  so.  I  wish,  though,  that  by 
the  mere  saying  so,  I  could  make  the  endurance 
easier." 

"  I  can  make  your  lot  in  the  service  easier." 

"  Indeed  !  how  so?" 

"By  having  you  appointed  my  Hospital  Steward. 
I  have  not  secured  one  yet,  and  the  man  who  is  acting 
as  such  is  so  intemperate  that  I  feel  a  fresh  sense  of 
escape  with  every  day  that  passes  without  his  mistak- 
ing the  oxalic  acid  for  Epsom  salts,  to  the  destruction 
of  some  earnest  but  constipated  young  patriot's  whole 
digestive  viscera. 

"If  you  accept  this  position,"  continued  the  Sur- 
geon, flinging  away  his  refractory  cigar  in  disgust, 
4* 


90  Tin:  iu:d  acokn. 

and  rising  to  get  a  fresh  one,  "you  will  have  the 
best  rank  and  pay  of  any  non-commissioned  officer  in 
the  regiment ;  better,  indeed,  than  that  of  a  Second 
Lieutenant.  You  will  have  your  quarters  here  with 
me,  and  be  compelled  to  associate  with  no  one  but 
me,  thus  reducing  your  disagreeable  companions  at  a 
single  stiY)ke,  to  one.  And  you  will  escape  finally 
fiom  all  subserviency  to  Lieutenant  Alspaugh,  or  in- 
deed to  any  other  officer  in  the  regiment,  except  your 
humble  servant.  As  to  food,  you  will  mess  with 
me." 

'"Those  are  certainly  very  strong  inducements,'" 
said  Harry,  meditating  upon  the  delightfulness  of 
relief  from  the  myriad  of  rasping  little  annoyances 
which  rendered  every  day  of  camp-life  an  infliction 

"Yes,  and  still  farther,  ycm  will  never  need  to  go 
under  fire,  or  expose  yourself  to  danger  of  any  kind, 
unless  you  choose  to.'' 

Harry's  face  crimsoned  to  the  hue  of  the  westeni 
sky  where  the  sun  was  just  going  down.  He  started 
to  answer  hotly,  but  an  understanding  of  the  Sur- 
geon's evident  kindness  and  sincerity  interposed  to 
deter  him.  He  knew  there  was  no  shaft  of  sarcasm 
hidden  below  this  plain  speech,  and  after  a  moment's 
consideration  he  replied  : 

"  I  am  very  grateful,  I  assure  you,  for  your  kind- 
ness in  this  matter.  I  am  strongly  tempted  to  accept 
your  offer,  but  there  are  still  stronger  reasons  why  I 
should  decline  it." 

"  ^lay  I  ask  y(nn-  reasons  ?  " 

"  My  reasons  for  not  accepting  the  appointment  ? " 
"  Yes,  the  reasons  which  impel    you   to   prefer  a 


THE    TEDIUM    OF   CAMP.  91 

dinner  of  bitter  herbs,  under  Mr.  Alspaugh's  usually 
soiled  thumb,  to  a  stalled  ox  and  my  profitable  soci- 
ety," said  the  Surgeon,  gayly. 

Harry  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  decided  U 
speak  frankly.  "Yes,"  he  said,  "your  kindness  gives 
3^)u  the  right  to  know.  To  not  tell  you  would  show 
a  lack  of  gratitude.  I  made  a  painful  blunder  before 
in  not  staying  unflinchingly  with  my  company.  The 
more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  I  regret  it,  and  the  more  I 
am  decided  not  to  repeat  it,  but  al)ide  with  my  com- 
rades and  share  their  fate  in  all  things.  I  feel  that  I 
no  longer  have  a  choice  in  the  matter  ;  I  must  do  it. 
But  tiiere  goes  the  drum  for  roll-call.  I  must  go. 
Good  evening,  and  very  many  thanks." 

"The  young  fellow's  no  callow  milksop,  after  all," 
said  Surgeon  Denslow,  as  his  eyes  followed  Harry's 
retreating  form.  "  His  gristle  is  hardening  into  some- 
thing like  his  stern  old  father's  backbone." 


92  THE   RED    A(X)RN. 


CHAPTER    IX. 


ON   THE   MARCH. 

•  He  smelleth  the  battle  afar  off,  the  thunder  of  the  Captalna  and  the  ihoutlng.' 


— Job. 


T 


HE  wearv  wooks  in  Ciimp  of  Inslnution  ended 
witli  the  Suniincr.  September  liad  eonie,  and 
Nature  was  lian^jfing  out  crimson  hattle-tlags  every- 
wliere  —  on  tlie  swayinor  poj)py  and  the  heavy-odored 
freranium.  The  sumach  and  the  sassafras  wore  crim- 
son siirnals  of  defiance,  and  tl)e  maples  blazed  with 
the  iraudy  red,  yellow  and  oranire  of  warlike  pomp. 

The  reirimenl  made  its  first  step  on  Kentuck}'  soil 
with  a  little  bit  of  pardonable  ostentation.  Every 
one  looked  upon  it  as  the  real  beginning  of  its  military 
(  areer.  When  the  transport  was  securely  tied  up  at 
the  wharf,  the  Colonel  mounted  his  horse,  drew  his 
sword,  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  regiment, 
and  gave  the  conunand  ''  Forward."  Eleven  hundred 
superb  young  fellows,  marching  four  abreast,  with 
bayonets  fixed,  and  muskets  at  ''right  shoulder  shift,'' 
strode  up  the  bank  after  him  and  went  into  line  of 
battle  at  the  top,  where  he  made  a  short  soldierly 
speech,  the  drums  rolled,  the  colors  dipped,  the  men 
cheered,  and  the  band  played  "Star-spangled  Ban- 
ner" and  "Dixie.'' 

Three  years  later  the  two  hundred  survivors  of 
this  number  returning  from  their  "  Veteran  furlough," 


ON   THE   MARCH.  93 

without  a  band  and  with  their  tattered  colore  carefully 
cased,  came  off  a  transport  at  the  same  place,  without 
uttering  a  word  other  than  a  little  grumbling  at  the 
trouble  of  disposing  of  some  baggage,  marched  swift- 
ly and  silently  u})  the  bank,  and  disappeared  before 
any  one  fairly  realized  that  they  were  there.  So 
much  had  Time  and  War  taught  them. 

''  Now  our  work  may  be  said  to  be  fairly  begun," 
said  the  Colonel,  turning  from  the  contemjilation  of 
his  regiment,  and  scanning  anxiously  the  tops  of  the 
distant  line  of  encircling  hills,  as  if  he  expected  to 
see  there  signs  of  the  Rebels  in  strong  force.  All  the 
rest  imitated  his  example,  and  studied  the  horizon 
solicitously.  "And  I  expect  we  shall  have  plenty  of 
it !  "  continued  the  Colonel. 

"  No  doubt  of  that,"  answered  the  Major.  ''They 
say  the  Rebels  are  filling  Kentucky  with  troops,  and 
going  to  fight  for  every  foot  of  the  Old  Dark  and 
Bloody  Ground.  I  think  we  will  have  to  earn  all  we 
get  of  it." 

"To-day's  papers  report,"  joined  in  Surgeon  Dens- 
low,  "that  General  Sherman  says  it  will  take  two 
hundred  thousand  troops  to  redeem  Kentucky." 

"Yes,"  broke  in  the  Colonel  testily,  "and  the 
same  papers  agree  in  pronouncing  Sherman  crazy. 
But  no  matter  how  many  or  how  few  it  takes.  That's 
none  of  our  affair.  We've  got  eleven  hundred  good 
men  in  ranks,  and  we're  going  to  do  all  that  eleven 
hundred  good  men  can  do.  God  Almighty  and  Abe 
Lincoln  have  got  to  take  care  of  the  rest." 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  Colonel  was  a  very  prac- 
tical soldier. 


94  THE    RED    ACORN. 

"  First  thing  we  know,  the  Colonel  will  be  trying 
to  make  us  'leven  hundred  clean  out  'leven  thousand 
Rebs,"  gi'owled  Abe  Bolton. 

"Suppose  the  Colonel  should  imagine  himself  an- 
other Leonidas,  and  us  his  Spartan  band,  and  want  us 
to  die  around  him,  and  start  another  ThermopyU^ 
down  here  in  the  mountains,  some  phice,""  suggested 
Kent  Edwards,  "you  would  cheerfully  pass  in  your 
checks  along  with  the  rest,  so  as  to  make  the  thing 
an  entire  success,  wouldn't  you  ( '' 

"The  day  I'm  sent  below,  I'll  take  a  pile  of  Rebs 
along  to  keep  me  company,"  answered  Abe,  surlily. 

Glen,  standing  in  the  rear  of  his  company  in  his 
place  as  file-closer,  listened  to  these  Avords,  and  saw  in 
the  dim  distance  and  on  the  darkling  bights  the 
throngs  of  fierce  enemies  and  avalanches  of  impend- 
ing dangers  as  are  likely  to  oppress  the  imagination 
of  a  young  soldier  at  such  unfiivorable  moments.  The 
conflict  and  carnage  seemed  so  imminent  that  he  half 
expected  it  to  begin  that  very  night,  and  he  stiffened 
his  sinews  for  the  shock. 

Lieutenant  Alspaugh  also  heard,  studied  over  the 
unwelcome  possibilities  shrouded  in  the  gathering 
gloom  of  the  distance,  and  regretted  that  he  had  not, 
before  crossing  the  Ohio,  called  the  Surgeon's  atten- 
tion to  some  premonitory  symptoms  of  rheumatism, 
which  he  felt  he  might  desire  to  develop  into  an 
acute  attack  in  the  event  of  danger  assuming  an  un- 
pleasant proximity. 

But  as  no  Rebels  appeared  on  the  sweeping  semi- 
circle of  hills  that  shut  in  Covington  on  the  south,  he 
concluded  to  hold  his  disability  in  abeyance,  by  a  , 


ON   THE   MARCH.  95 

strong  effort  of  the  will,  until  the  regiment  had  pen- 
etrated farther  into  the  enemy's  country. 

For  days  the  regiment  marched  steadily  on 
through  the  wonderfully  lovely  Blue  Grass  Region, 
toward  the  interior  of  the  State,  without  coming  into 
the  neighborhood  of  any  organized  body  of  the 
Rebels. 

Glen's  first  tremors  upon  crossing  the  Ohio  sub- 
sided so  as  to  permit  him  to  thoroughly  enjoy  the 
beauties  of  the  scenery,  and  the  pleasures  of  out-door 
life  in  a  region  so  attractive  at  that  season  of  the 
year. 

The  turnpike,  hard  and  smooth  as  a  city  pave- 
ment, wound  over  and  around  romantic  hills— hills 
crowned  u  ith  cedar  and  evergreen  laurel,  and  scarred 
with  cliffs  and  caverns.     It  passed  through  forests, 
aromatic  with  ripening  nuts  and  changing  leaves,  and 
glorious  in  the  colors  of  early  Autumn.     Then  its 
course  would  traverse  farms  of  gracefully  undulating 
acres,  bounded  by  substantial  stone-walls,  marked  by 
winding   streams  of    pure   spring  water,    centering 
around  great  roomy  houses,  with  huge  outside  chim- 
neys, and  broad  piazzas,  and  with  a  train  of  humble 
negro  cabins  in  the  rear.     The  horses  were  proud- 
stepping  thoroughbreds,  the  women  comely  and  spir- 
ited, the  men  dignified  and  athletic,  and  all  seemed 
well-fed  and  comfortable.     The  names  of  the  places 
along  the  route  recalled  to  Harry's  memory  all  he 
had  ever  read  of  the  desperate  battles  and  massacres 
and  single-handed  encounters  of  Daniel  Boone  and 
his  associates,  with  the  Indians  in  the  early  history  of 
the  country. 


96  THE    RED   ACORN. 

"This  certainly  seems  an  ideal  pastoral  land — a 
place  where  one  would  naturally  locate  a  charming 
idyl  or  bucolic  love-story! "  he  said  one  evening,  to 
Surgeon  Paul  Denslow,  after  descanting  at  length 
upon  the  beauties  of  the  country  which  they  were 
"redeeming"  from  the  hands  of  the  Rebels. 

"  Yes,"  answ^ered  Dr.  Denslow,  "  and  it's  as  dull 
and  sleepy  and  non-progressive  as  all  those  places  are 
where  they  locate  what  you  call  your  idyls  and  pasto- 
rals !  These  people  haven't  got  an  idea  belonging  to 
this  century,  nor  do  they  want  one.  They  know  how 
to  raise  handsome  girls,  distil  good  Avhisky,  and 
breed  fast  horses.  This  they  esteem  the  end  of  all 
human  knowledge  and  understanding.  Anything 
more  is  to  them  vanity  and  useless  vexation  of 
spirit." 

At  last  the  regiment  halted  under  the  grand  old 
beeches  and  hickories  of  the  famous  Camp  Dick  Rob- 
inson, in  the  heart  of  the  Blue  Grass  Region.  In 
this  most  picturesque  part  of  the  lovely  Kentucky 
River  Valley  they  spent  the  bright  days  of  October 
very  delightfully. 

Nature  is  as  kindly  and  gracious  in  Central  Ken- 
tucky as  in  any  part  of  the  globe  upon  which  her 
sun  shines,  and  she  seemed  to  be  on  her  best  be- 
havior, that  she  might  duly  impress  the  Northern 
visitors. 

The  orchards  were  loaded  with  fruit,  and  the 
forest  trees  showered  nuts  upon  the  ground.  In 
every  field  were  groups  of  persimmon  trees,  their 
branches  bending  under  a  Imrden  of  luscious  fruit, 
which  the  frost  had  coated  with  sheeny  purple  out- 


ON   THE    MARCH.  97 

side,  and  made  sweeter  than  fine  wine  within.  Over 
all  bent  softly  brilliant  skies,  and  the  bland,  bracing 
air  was  charged  with  the  electricity  of  life  and  hap- 
piness. 

It  was  the  very  poetry  of  soldiering,  and  Harry 
began  to  forget  the  miseries  of  life  in  a  Camp  of  In- 
struction, and  to  believe  that  there  was  much  to  be 
enjoyed,  even  in  the  life  of  an  enlisted  man. 

"  This  here  air  or  the  apple-jack  seems  to  have  a 
wonderfully  improving  efiect  on  Jake  Alspaugh's 
chronic  rheumatics,*"  sneered  Abe  Bolton. 

It  was  a  sunny  afternoon.  Bolton  and  Kent  Ed- 
wards were  just  outside  of  the  camp  lines,  in  the 
shade  of  a  grand  old  black  walnut,  and  had  re-seated 
themselves  to  finish  devouring  a  bucketful  of  lush 
persimmons,  after  having  reluctantly  risen  from  that 
delightful  occupation  to  salute  Lieutenant  Alspaugh, 
as  he  passed  outward  in  imposing  blue  and  gold  stal- 
warthood. 

"I've  been  remarking  that  myself,"  said  Kent, 
taking  out  a  handful  of  the  shining  fruit,  and  delib- 
erately picking  the  stems  and  dead  leaves  from  the 
sticky  sides,  preparatory  to  swallowing  it.  "  He 
hasn't  had  an  attack  since  we  thought  those  negroes 
and  teams  on  the  hills  beyond  Cynthiana  was  John 
Morgan's  Rebel  cavalry." 

"Yes,"  continued  Abe,  helping  himself  also  to 
the  mellow  date-plums,  "his  legs  are  so  sound  now 
that  he  is  able  to  go  to  every  frolic  in  the  country  for 
miles  around,  and  dance  all  night.  He's  going  to 
the  Quartermaster's  now,  to  get  a  horse  to  ride  to  a 
dance  and  candy-pulling  at  that  double  log-house  four 
G     "^    5 


98  THE    RED    ACORN. 

• 

miles  down  the  Harrodsburg  Pike.  I  heard  hira 
talking  to  some  other  fellows  about  it  when  I  went 
up  with  the  squad  to  bring  the  rations  down  to  the 
company." 

"  Seems  to  me,  come  to  think  of  it,  that  I  have 
heard  of  some  rheumatic  symptoms  recently.  Re- 
member that  a  couple  of  weeks  ago  Pete  Sanford  got 
a  bullet  through  his  blouse,  that  scraped  his  ribs, 
don't  you  ? " 

"Yes,"   said   Abe,  spitting    the    seeds  out    from 
a  mouthful  of  honeyed  pulp. 

"  Well,  the  boys  say  that  Jake  went  to  a  candy- 
pulling  frolic  down  in  the  Cranston  settlement,  and 
got  into  a  killing  flirtation  with  the  prettiest  girl 
there.  She  was  taken  with  his  brass  buttons,  and  his 
circus-horse  style  generally,  but  she  had  another  fel- 
low that  it  didn't  suit  so  well.  He  showed  his  dis- 
approval in  a  way  that  seems  to  be  the  fashion  down 
here  ;  that  is,  he  '  laid  for '  Jake  behind  a  big  rock  with 
a  six-foot  deer  rifle,  but  mistook  Pete  Sanford  for  him." 

"The  dunderhead's  as  poor  a  judge  of  men  as 
he's  marksman.     He's  a  disgrace  to  Kentucky  " 

"  At  all  events  it  served  as  a  hint,  which  Alspaugh 
did  not  fail  to  take.  Since  that  time  there  has  been 
two  or  three  dances  at  Cranston's,  but  every  time 
Jake  has  had  such  twinges  of  his  rheumatism  that  he 
did  not  think  it  best  to  '  expose  himself  to  the  night 
air,'  and  go  with  the  boys." 

"O  ! ouw  !  — wh-i  s-s-s-sh  !  "    sputtered  Abe. 

spitting  the  contents  of  his  mouth  out  explosively, 
while  his  face  was  contorted  as  if  every  nerve  and 
muscle  was  being  twisted  violently. 


ON   THE    MARCH.  99 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter,  Abe  ?  "  asked  Kent,  in 
real  alarm.  "Have  you  swallowed  a  centipede,  or 
has  the  cramp-colic  griped  you  ? " 

"No!  I  hain't  swallowed  no  centerboard,  nor 
have  I  the  belly-ache — blast  your  chucldehead," 
roared  Abe,  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  rushed  to  the 
brook,  scooped  up  some  water  in  his  hands,  and 
rinsed  his  mouth  out  energetically. 

"Well,  what  can  it  be,  then?  You  surely  ain't 
doing  all  that  for  fun." 

"No,  I  ain't  doing  it  for  fun"  shouted  Abe,  an- 
grier still ;  "  and  nobody  but  a  double-and-twisted 
idiot  would  ask  such  a  fool  question.  I  was  paying 
so  much  attention  to  your  dumbed  story  that  I  chewed 
up  a  green  persimmon — one  that  hadn't  been  touched 
by  the  frost.  It's  puckered  up  my  mouth  so  that  I 
never  will  get  it  straight  again.  It's  worse  than  a 
pound  of  alum  and  a  gallon  of  tanbark  juice  mixed 
together.  O,  laugh,  if  you  want  to — that's  just  what 
rd  expect  from  you.  That's  about  all  the  sense 
you've  got." 


There  was  enough  excitement  in  camp  to  prevent 
any  danger  of  ennui.  The  probability  of  battle  gave 
the  daily  drills  an  interest  that  they  never  could  gain 
in  Ohio.  The  native  Rebels  were  numerous  and  de- 
fiant, and  kept  up  such  demonstrations  as  led  to  con- 
tinual apprehensions  of  an  attack.  New  regiments 
came  in  constantly,  and  were  received  with  enthu- 
siasm. Kentucky  and  East  Tennessee  Loyalists,  tall, 
gaunt,  long-haired  and  quaint-spoken,  but  burning 
with  enthusiasm  for  the  Government  of  their  fathers, 


100  THE    RED    ACORN. 

flocked  to  the  camp,  doffed  their  butternut  garb,  as- 
sumed the  blue,  and  enrolled  themselves  to  defend 
the  Union. 

At  length  it  became  evident  that  the  Rebel  "Army 
of  Liberation "  was  really  about  crossing  the  Cum- 
berland Mountains  to  drive  out  the  "Yankees"  and 
recover  possession  of  Kentucky  for  the  Southern  Con- 
federacy. 

Outposts  were  thrown  out  in  all  directions  to  gain 
the  earliest  intelligence  of  the  progress  of  the  move- 
ment, and  to  make  such  resistance  to  it  as  might  be 
possible.  One  of  these  outposts  was  stationed  at 
Wildcat  Gap,  an  inexpressibly  wild  and  desolate  re 
gion,  sixty  miles  from  Camp  Dick  Robinson,  where 
the  road  entering  Kentucky  from  Tennessee  at  Cum- 
berland Gap  crosses  the  Wildcat  range  of  mountains. 

One  da}'  the  startling  news  reached  camp  that  an 
overwhelming  Rebel  force  under  Gen.  Zollicoffer  was 
on  the  eve  of  attacking  the  slender  garrison  of  Wild- 
cat Gap.  The  "assembly"  was  sounded,  and  the 
regiment,  hastily  provided  with  rations  and  ammu- 
nition, was  hurried  forward  to  aid  in  the  defense  of 
the  threatened  outpost. 

Nature,  as  if  in  sympathy  with  the  gathering  storm 
of  war,  ceased  her  smiling.  The  blue,  bending  skies 
were  transformed  into  a  scowling,  leaden- visaged  can- 
opy, from  which  fell  a  chill,  incessant  rain. 

When  the  order  to  prepare  for  the  march  came 
Glen,  following  the  example  of  his  comrades,  packed 
three  days'  cooked  rations  in  his  haversack,  made  his 
blankets  into  a  roll,  tieing  their  ends  together,  threw 
them  scarf-fashion  over   his   shoulder,  and  took  his 


ON   THE   MARCH.  101 

accustomed  place  as  file-closer  in  the  rear  of  his  com- 
pany. He  was  conscious  all  the  time,  though  he 
sutfered  no  outward  sign  to  betray  the  fact,  that  he 
was  closely  watched  by  the  boys  who  had  been  with 
him  in  Western  Virginia,  and  who  were  eager  to  see 
how  he  would  demean  himself  in  this  new  emer- 
gency. 

He  was  shortly  ordered  to  assist  in  the  inspection 
of  cartridge-boxes  and  the  issuing  of  cartridges,  and 
the  grim  nature  of  the  errand  they  were  about  to 
start  upon  duly  impressed  itself  upon  his  mind  as  he 
walked  down  the  lines  in  the  melancholy  rain,  ex- 
amined each  box,  and  gave  the  owner  the  quantity  of 
cartridges  required  to  make  up  the  quota  of  forty 
rounds  per  man. 

Those  who  scrutinized  his  face  as  he  passed  slowly 
by,  saw  underneath  the  dripping  eaves  of  his  broad- 
brimmed  hat  firm-set  lines  about  his  mouth,  and  a 
little  more  luminous  light  in  his  eyes. 

"Harry  Glen's  screwing  his  courage  to  the  stick- 
ing point.  He's  bound  to  go  through  this  time,"  said 
Kent  Edwards. 

"  The  more  fool  he,"  answered  Abe  Bolton,  adjust- 
ing his  poncho  so  as  to  better  protect  his  cartridges  and 
rations  from  the  rain.  "If  he  Avanted  to  play  the 
Avarrior  all  so  bold  why  didn't  he  improve  his  oppor- 
tunities in  Western  Virginia,  when  it  was  fine  weather 
and  he  only  had  three  months  to  do  it  in  ?  Now  that 
he's  in  for  three  years  it  will  be  almighty  strange  if 
he  can't  find  a  pleasanter  time  to  make  his  little  strut 
on  the  field  of  battle  than  in  this  infernal  soak." 

*'I  have  seen  better  days  than  this,  as  the  tramp 


102  THE    RED   ACORN. 

remarked  who  had  once  been  a  bank  cashier,"  mur- 
mured Kent,  tightening  the  tompion  in  his  musket- 
muzzle  with  a  piece  of  paper,  the  better  to  exclude 
the  moisture,  and  wrapping  a  part  of  the  poncho 
around  the  lock  for  the  same  purpose.  "  Where  is 
that  canteen  ? " 

''It's  where  it'll  do  you  no  good  until  you  need 
it  much  worse'n  3'ou  do  now.  O,  1  know  you  of 
old,  Mr.  Kent  Edwards,"  continued  Abe,  with 
that  deep  sarcasm,  which  was  his  nearest  approach  to 
humor.  "  I  may  say  that  IVe  had  the  advantages 
of  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  you  for  years,  and 
when  I  trust  j^ou  with  a  full  canteen  of  apple-jack  at 
the  beginning  of  such  a  march  as  this'll  lie,  Til  be 
ready  to  enlist  in  the  permanent  garrison  of  a  lunatic 
asylum,  I  will.  This  canteen  only  holds  three  pints  ; 
that's  great  deal  less'n  'you  do.  It's  full  now,  and 
you're  empty.  Fill  up  some  place  else,  and  to- 
morrow or  next  day,  when  you'd  give  a  farm  for  a 
nip,  this'Ucome  in  mighty  handy." 

The  Hospital  Steward  approached,  and  said  : 
"Captain,  the  Surgeon  presents  his  compliments 
and  requests  that  you  send  four  men  to  convey  your 
First  Lieutenant  Alspaugh  to  comfortable  quarters 
which  have  been  prepared  for  him  in  the  hospital 
barracks.  His  rheumatic  trouble  has  suddenly  as- 
sumed an  acute  form — brought  on  doubtless  by  the 
change  in  the  weather — and  he  is  suffering  greatly. 
Please  instruct  the  men  to  be  very  careful  in  carrying 
him,  so  as  to  avoid  all  unnecessary  pain,  and  also  all 
exposure  to  the  rain.     He  will  have  a  good  room  in 


ON    THE    MARCH.  103 

in  the  hospital,  with  a  fire  in  it,  and  every  atten- 
tion, so  that  you  need  have  no  fears  concerning 
him." 

"I  never  had,"  said  Kent,  loud  enough  to  be 
heard  all  over  the  right  wing  of  the  company. 

"I  have,"  said  Abe.  "There's  every  danger  in 
the  world  that  he'll  get  well." 

Away  the  regiment  marched,  through  the  dismal 
rain,  going  as  fast  as  the  heavily  laden  men  could  be 
spurred  onward  by  the  knowledge  of  their  comrades' 
imminent  need. 

It  was  fearful  hard  work  even  so  long  as  the  pike 
lasted,  and  they  had  a  firm,  even  foundation  for  their 
feet  to  tread  upon.  But  the  pike  ended  at  Crab  Or- 
chard, and  then  they  plunged  into  the  worst  ronds 
that  the  South  at  any  time  offered  to  resist  the  pro- 
gress of  the  Union  armies.  Narrow,  tortuous,  un- 
worked  substitutes  for  highways  wound  around  and 
over  steep,  rocky  hills,  through  miry  creek  bottoms, 
and  over  bridgeless  streams,  now  so  swollen  as  to  be 
absolutely  unfordable  by  less  determined  men,  start- 
ing on  a  less  urgent  errand. 

For  three  weary,  discouraging  days  they  pressed 
onward  through  the  dispiriting  rain  and  over  all  the 
exhausting  obstacles.  On  the  morning  of  the  fourth 
they  reached  the  foot  of  the  range  in  which  Wildcat 
Gap  is  situated.  They  were  marching  slowly  up  the 
steep  mountain  side,  their  soaked  garments  clinging 
about  their  weary  limbs  and  clogging  their  footsteps. 
Suddenly  a  sullen  boom  rolled  out  of  the  mist  that 
hung  over  the  distant  mountain  tops. 


104  THE   RED   ACORN. 

Every  one  stopped,  held  their  breaths,  and  tried 
to  check  the  beating  of  their  hearts,  that  they  might 
hear  more. 

They  needed  not.  There  was  no  difficulty  about 
hearing  the  succeeding  reports,  which  became  ever}- 
instant  more  distinct. 

"By  God,  that's  cannon!"  said  the  Colonel. 
' '  They're  attacking  our  boys.  Throw  off  every  thing, 
boys,  and  hurry  forward  !  " 

Overcoats,  blankets,  haversacks  and  knapsacks 
were  hastily  piled,  and  the  two  most  exhausted  men 
in  each  company  placed  on  guard  over  them. 

Kent  and  Abe  did  not  contribute  their  canteen  to 
the  company  pile.  But  then  its  weight  was  much 
less  of  an  impediment  than  when  they  left  Camp 
Dick  Robinson. 

They  employed  the  very  brief  halt  of  the  regi- 
ment in  swabbing  out  the  barrels  of  their  muskets 
very  carefully,  and  removing  the  last  traces  of  mois- 
ture from  the  nipples  and  hammers. 

"At  last  I  stand  a  show  of  getting  some  return 
from  this  old  piece  of  gas-tube  for  the  trouble  it's 
been  to  me,"  said  Kent  Edwards,  as  he  ran  a  pin  into 
the  nipple  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure  that  it  was 
entirely  free.  "Think  of  the  transportation  charges 
I  have  against  it,  for  the  time  I  have  lugged  it  around 
over  Ohio  and  Kentucky,  to  say  nothing  of  the  man- 
ual labor  and  the  mental  strain  of  learning  and  prac- 
tising 'present  arms,'  'carry  arms,'  'support  aims,' 
and  such  other  military  monkey-shines  under  the  hot 
sun  of  last  Summer  !  " 

He   pulled   off  the   woolen   rag  he  had   twisted 


ON   THE   MARCH.  105 

around  the  head  of  the  rammer  for  a  swab,  wiped  the 
rammer  clean  and  bright  and  dropped  it  into  the  gun. 
It  fell  with  a  clear  ring.  Another  dextrous  move- 
ment of  the  gun  sent  it  fljnng  into  the  air,  Kent 
caught  it  as  it  came  down  and  scrutinized  its  bright 
head.  He  found  no  smirch  of  dirt  or  dampness. 
"Clean  and  clear  as  a  whistle  inside,"  he  said,  ap- 
provingly. "She'll  make  music  that  our  Secession 
friends  will  pay  attention  to,  though  it  may  not  be  as 
sweet  to  their  ears  as  'The  Bonnie  Blue  Flag.' " 

"More  likely  kick  the  whole  northwest  quarter 
section  of  your  shoulder  ofl*  when  you  try  to  shoot 
it,"  growled  Abe,  who  had  been  paying  similar  close 
attention  to  his  gun.  "If  we'd  had  anybody  but  a 
lot  of  mullet-heads  for  officers  we'd  a'  been  sent  up 
here  last  week,  when  the  weather  and  the  roads  were 
good,  and  when  we  could've  done  something.  Now 
our  boys'U  be  licked  before  we  can  get  where  we  can 
help  'em."  ' 

Glen  leaned  on  his  musket,  and  listening  to  the 
deepening  roar  of  the  battle,  was  shaken  by  the  surge 
of  emotions  natural  to  the  occasion.  It  seemed  as  if  no 
one  could  live  through  the  incessant  firing  the  sound 
of  which  rolled  down  to  them.  To  go  up  into  it  was  to 
deliberately  venture  into  certain  destruction.  Mem- 
ory made  a  vehement  protest.  He  recalled  all  the 
pleasant  things  that  life  had  in  store  for  him  ;  all 
that  he  could  enjoy  and  accomplish  ;  all  that  he 
might  be  to  others  ;  all  that  others  might  be  to  him. 
Every  enjoyment  of  the  past,  every  happy  possibility 
of  the  future  took  on  a  more  entrancing  roseate- 
ness. 


106  THE    KED    ACORN. 

Could  he  give  all  this  up,  and  die  there  on  the 
mountain  top,  in  this  dull,  brutal,  unheroic  fashion, 
in  the  filthy  mud  and  dreary  rain,  with  no  one  to  note 
or  care  whether  he  acted  courageously  or  other- 
wise ? 

It  did  not  seem  that  he  was  expected  to  fling  his 
life  away  like  a  dumb  brute  entering  the  reeking 
shambles.  His  youth  and  abilities  had  been  given 
him  for  some  other  purpose.  Again  palsying  fear 
and  ignoble  selfishness  tugged  at  his  heart-strings, 
and  he  felt  all  his  carefully  cultivated  resolutions 
weakening. 

"  A  Sergeant  must  be  left  in  command  of  the  men 
guarding  this  property,'' said  the  Colonel.  "The 
Captain  of  Company  A  will  detail  one  for  that 
duty." 

Captain  Bennett  glanced  from  one  to  another  of 
his  five  Sergeants.  Harry's  heart  gave  a  swift  leap, 
with  hope  that  he  migl>t  be  ordered  to  remain  be- 
hind. Then  the  blood  crimsoned  his  cheeks,  for  the 
first  time  since  the  sound  of  the  firing  struck  his  ears ; 
he  felt  that  every  eye  in  the  Company  was  upon  him, 
and  that  his  ignoble  desire  had  been  read  by  all  in 
his  look  of  expectancy.  Shame  came  to  spur  up  his 
faltering  will.  He  set  his  teeth  firmly,  pulled  the 
tompion  out  of  his  gun,  and  flung  it  away  disdain- 
fully as  if  he  would  never  need  it  again,  blew  into 
the  muzzle  to  see  if  the  tube  was  clear,  and  wiped  ofi" 
the  lock  with  a  fine  white  handkerchief — one  of  the 
relics  of  his  by-gone  elegance — which  he  drew  from 
the  breast  of  his  blouse. 

"Sergeant  Glan — Sergeant  Glancey  will  remain," 


ON  THE   MARCH.  107 

said  the  Caplain  peremptorily.  Glancey,  the  Captain 
knew,  was  the  only  son  and  support  of  a  widowed 
mother. 

"Now,  boys,"  said  the  Colonel  in  tones  that  rang 
like  bugle  notes,  "the  time  has  come  for  us  to  strike 
a  blow  for  the  Union,  and  for  the  fame  of  the  dear 
old  Buckeye  State.  I  need  not  exhort  you  to  do  your 
duty  like  men;  I  know  you  too  well  to  think  that  any 
such  words  of  mine  are  at  all  necessary.  Forward  ! 
quick  time!  march  !  " 

The  mountain  sides  rang  with  the  answering  cheers 
from  a  thousand  throats. 

The  noise  of  the  battle  on  the  distant  crest  was  at 
first  in  separate  bursts  of  sound,  as  regiment  after 
regiment  came  into  position  and  opened  fire.  The 
intervals  between  these  bursts  had  disappeared,  and 
it  had  now  become  a  steady  roar. 

A  wild  mob  came  rushing  backward  from  the 
front. 

"My  God,  our  men  are  whipped!"  exclaimed 
the  young  Adjutant  in  tones  of  anguish. 

"No,  no,"  said  Captain  Bennett,  with  cheerful 
confidence.  "  These  are  only  the  camp  rifi'-rafi*,  who 
run  whenever  so  much  as  a  cap  is  burst  near  them." 

So  it  proved  to  be.  There  were  teamsters  upon 
their  wheel-mules,  cooks,  officers'  servants,  both 
black  and  white,  and  civilian  employes,  mingled  with 
many  men  in  uniform,  skulking  from  their  companies. 
Those  were  mounted  who  could  seize  a  mule  any- 
where, and  those  who  could  not  were  endeavoring  to 
keep  up  on  foot  with  the  panic-stricken  riders. 

A.11  seemed  wild  with  one  idea  :  To  get  as  far  as 


108  THE    RED    ACORN. 

l)osi5ible  from  the  terrors  raging  around  the  moun- 
tain top.  They  rushed  through  the  regiment  and 
disordered  its  ranks. 

"Who  are  you  a-shovin\  young  fellow — say?  "  de- 
manded Abe  Bolton,  roughly  collaring  a  strapping 
hulk  of  a  youth,  who,  hatless,  and  with  his  fat  cheeks 
white  with  fear,  came  plunging  against  him  like  a 
frightened  steer. 

'•O  boys,  let  me  pass,  and  don't  go  up  there! 
Don't !  You'll  all  be  killed.  I  know  it,  I'm  all  the 
one  of  my  company  that  got  away — I  am,  really. 
All  the  rest  are  killed." 

"  Heavens  1  what  a  wretched  remnant,  as  the  dry- 
goods  man  said,  when  the  clerk  brought  him  a  piece 
of  selvage  as  all  that  the  burglars  had  left  of  his  stock 
of  broadcloth,"  said  Kent  Edwards.  "  It's  too  bad 
that  you  were  allowed  to  get  away,  either.  You're 
not  a  proper  selection  for  a  relic  at  all,  and  you  give  a 
bad  impression  of  your  company.  You  ought  to  have 
thought  of  this,  and  staid  up  there  and  got  killed, 
and  ict  some  better-looking  man  got  away,  that  would 
have  done  the  company  credit.  Why  didn't  you  think 
of  this?" 

"Git  !"  said  Abe,  sententiously,  with  a  twist  in 
the  coward's  collar,  that,  with  the  help  of  an  oppor- 
tune kick  by  Kent,  sent  him  sprawling  down  the 
bank. 

"Captain  Bennett,"  shouted  the  Colonel  angrily, 
•*  Fix  bayonets  there  in  front,  and  drive  these  hounds 
off,  or  we'll  never  get  there." 

A  show  of  savage-looking  steel  sent  the  skulkers 
down  a  side-path  through  the  woods. 


ON   THE    MARCH.  109 

The  tumult  of  the  battle  heightened  with  every 
step  the  regiment  advanced.  A  turn  in  the  winding 
road  brought  them  to  an  opening  in  the  woods  which 
extended  clear  to  the  summit.  Through  this  the  torrent 
of  noise  poured  as  when  a  powerful  band  passes  the 
head  of  a  street.  Down  this  avenue  came  rolling  the 
crash  of  thousands  of  muskets  fired  with  the  intense 
energy  of  men  in  mortal  combat,  the  deeper  pulsations 
of  the  artillery,  and  even  the  fierce  yells  of  the  fight- 
ers, as  charges  were  made  or  repulsed. 

Glen  felt  the  blood  settle  around  his  heart  anew. 

"Get  out  of  the  road  and  let  the  artillery  pass! 
Open  up  there  for  the  artillery  !  "  shouted  voices  from 
the  rear.     Everybody  sprang  to  the  side  of  the  road. 

There  came  a  sound  of  blows  rained  upon  horses' 
bodies  —  of  shouts  and  oaths  from  excited  drivers 
and  eager  officers — of  rushing  wheels  and  of  ironed 
hoofs  striking  fire  from  the  grinding  stones.  Six 
long-bodied,  strong-limbed  horses,  their  hides  reeking 
with  sweat,  and  their  nostrils  distended  with  intense 
efibrt,  tore  past,  snatching  after  them,  as  if  it  were  a 
toy,  a  gleaming  brass  cannon,  surrounded  by  galloping 
cannoneers,  who  goaded  the  draft  horses  on  with 
blows  with  the  flats  of  their  drawn  sabers.  Another 
gun,  with  its  straining  horses  and  galloping  attend- 
ants, and  another,  and  another,  until  six  great,  grim 
pieces,  with  their  scores  of  desperately  eager  men 
and  horses,  had  rushed  by  toward  the  front. 

It  was  a  sight  to  stir  the  coldest  blood.  The  ex- 
cited infantry  boys,  wrought  up  to  the  last  pitch  b}" 
the  spectacle,  sprang  back  into  the  road,  cheered 
vociferously,  and  rushed  on  after  the  battery. 


110  THE    RED    ACORX. 

Hardly  had  the  echoes  of  their  voices  died  away, 
when  they  heard  the  battery  join  its  thunders  to  the 
din  of  the  fight. 

Then  wounded  men,  powder-stained,  came  strag- 
gling back — men  Avith  shattered  arms  and  gashed 
faces  and  garments  soaked  with  blood  from  bleeding 
wounds. 

"Hurrah,  boys!"  each  shouted  with  weakened 
voice,  as  his  eyes  lighted  up  at  sight  of  the  regiment, 
"  We're  whipping  them  ;  but  hurry  forward  !  You're 
needed." 

"If  you  ain't  pretty  quick,"  piped  one  girl-faced 
boy,  with  a  pensive  smile,  as  he  sat  weakly  down  on  a 
stone  and  pressed  a  delicate  hand  over  a  round  red 
spot  that  had  just  appeared  on  the  breast  of  his 
blouse,  "  you'll  miss  all  the  fun.  We've  about  licked 
'em  already.     Oh  !  — "    ' 

Abe  and  Kent  sprang  forward  to  catch  him,  but 
he  was  dead  almost  before  they  could  reach  him. 
They  laid  him  back  tenderly  on  the  brown  dead 
leaves,  and  ran  to  regain  their  places  in  the  ranks. 

The  regiment  was  now  sweeping  around  the  last 
curve  between  it  and  the  line  of  battle.  The  smell  of 
the  burning  powder  that  tilled  the  air,  the  sight  of 
flowing  blood,  the  shouts  of  the  fighting  men,  had 
awakened  in  every  bosom  that  deep-lying  hilling  in- 
stinct inherited  from  our  savage  ancestr}'.  which  slum- 
bers— generally  wholly  unsuspected — in  even  the  gen- 
tlest man's  bosom,  until  some  accident  gives  it  a 
terrible  arousing. 

Now  the  slaying  fever  burned  in  every  soul.  They 
were  marching   with   long,    quick  strides,  but  well- 


ON   THE    MARCH.  Ill 

closed  ranks,  elbow  touching  elbow,  and  every  move- 
ment made  with  the  even  more  than  the  accuracy  of 
a  parade.  Harry  felt  himself  swept  forward  by  a 
current  as  resistless  as  that  which  sets  over  Niagara. 

They  came  around  the  little  hill,  and  saw  a  bank 
of  smoke  indicating  where  the  line  of  battle  was. 

"Let's  finish  the  canteen  now,"  said  Kent.  "It 
may  get  bored  by  a  bullet  and  all  run  out,  and  you 
know  I  hate  waste." 

" I  suppose  we  might  as  well  drink  it,"  assented 
Abe — the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  regiment, 
that  he  agreed  with  anybody.  "We  may  n't  be  able 
to  do  it  in  ten  minutes,  and  it  would  be  too  bad  to  've 
lugged  that  all  the  way  here,  just  for  some  one  else  to 
drink." 

An  Aide,  powder-grimed,  but  radiant  with  joy, 
dashed  up.  "Colonel,"  he  said,  " you  had  better  go 
into  line  over  in  that  vacant  space  there,  and  wait  for 
orders  ;  hnt  I  don't  think  you  will  have  anything  to  do, 
for  the  General  believes  that  the  victory  is  won,  and 
the  Rebels  are  in  full  retreat." 

As  he  spoke,  a  mighty  cheer  rolled  around  the 
line  of  battle,  and  a  band  stationed  upon  a  rock  which 
formed  the  highest  part  of  the  mountain,  burst  forth 
with  the  grand  strains  of  the  "  Star-spangled  Banner." 

The  artillery  continued  to  hurl  screaming  shot  and 
shell  down  into  the  narrow  gorge,  through  which  the 
defeated  Rebels  were  flying  with  mad  haste. 


112  ♦        THE    RED    ACORN. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   mountaineer's   REVENGE. 

And  If  w  (•  do  but  watch  the  hour. 
Then-  never  yet  was  human  power 
Which  could  evade.  If  unforglven. 
The  patient  Bearch  and  vigil  long 
Of  him  who  treasures  up  a  wrong. 

— Btkon. 

TTARRY  GLEN'S  first  feeling  when  he  found  the 
J-X  l)attle  was  really  over,  was  that  of  elation  that 
the  crisis  to  which  he  iiad  looked  forward  with  so 
much  apprehension,  had  passed  without  his  receiving 
any  bodily  harm.  This  was  soon  replaced  by  regret 
that  the  long-coveted  o"pportunity  had  been  suffered 
to  pass  unimi)roved,  and  still  another  strong  senti- 
ment— that  keen  sense  of  disappointment  which  comes 
when  we  have  braced  ourselves  uj)  to  encounter  an 
emergency,  and  it  vanishes.  There  is  the  feeling  of 
waste  of  valuable  accumulated  energy,  which  is  as 
painful  as  that  of  energy  misapplied. 

Still  farther,  he  felt  sadly  that  the  day  of  his  vin- 
dication had  been  again  postponed  over  another  weary 
period  of  probation. 

All  around  was  intense  enthusiasm,  growing 
stronger  every  instant.  It  was  the  first  battle  that 
the  victors  had  been  engaged  in,  and  they  felt  the 
tumultuous  joy  that  the  first  triumph  brings  to  young 
soldiers.  It  was  the  first  encounter  upon  the  soil  of 
Kentucky  ;  it  was  the  first  victory  between  the  Cum- 


THE    MOUNTAINEERS   REVENGE.  113 

berland  Mountains  and  the  Mississippi  River,  and  the 
loss  of  the  victors  was  insignificant,  compared  with 
that  of  the  vanquished. 

The  cold  drench  from  the  skies,  the  dreary  mud 
—even  the  dead  and  wounded — were  forgotten  in  the 
jubilation  at  the  sight  of  the  lately  insolent  foe  flying 
in  confusion  down  the  mountain  side,  recking  for 
nothing  so  much  as  for  personal  safety. 

The  band  continued  to  play  patriotic  airs,  and  the 
cannon  to  thunder  long  after  the  last  Rebel  had  dis- 
appeared in  the  thick  woods  at  the  bottom  of  the 
gloomy  gorge. 

A  detail  of  men  and  some  wagons  were  sent  back 
after  the  regiment's  baggage,  and  the  rest  of  the  boys, 
after  a  few  minutes  survey  of  the  battle-field,  were 
set  to  work  building  fires,  cooking  rations  and  pre- 
paring from  the  branches  and  brush  such  shelter  as 
could  be  made  to  do  substitute  duty  for  the  tents  left 
behind. 

Little  as  was  Harry's  normal  inclination  to  manual 
labor,  it  was  less  than  ever  now,  with  these  emotions 
struggling  in  his  mind,  and  leaving  his  comrades 
hard  at  work,  he  wandered  off  to  where  Hoosier  Knob, 
a  commanding  eminence  on  the  left  of  the  battle-field, 
seemed  to  offer  the  best  view  of  the  retreat  of  the 
forces  of  ZoUicoffer.  Arriving  there,  he  pushed  on 
down  the  slope  to  where  the  enemy's  line  had  stood, 
and  where  now  were  groups  of  men  in  blue  uniforms, 
searching  for  trophies  of  the  fight.  In  one  place  a 
musket  would  be  found  ;  in  another  a  cap  with  a 
silver  star,  or  a  canteen  quaintly  fashioned  from  altei- 
nate  staves  of  red  and  white  cedar.  Each  ^'  find  "  was 
H  5* 


114  THE    RED    ACORN. 

proclaimed  by  the  discoverer,  and  he  was  immediately 
surrounded  by  a  group  to  earnestly  inspect  and  dis- 
cuss it.  It  was  still  the  first  year  of  the  war ;  the 
next  year  "  trophies "  were  left  to  rot  unnoticed  on 
the  battle-fields  they  covered. 

Hurry  took  no  interest  in  the  relic-hunting,  but 
walked  onward  toward  another  prominence  that  gave 
hopes  of  a  good  view  of  the  Rebels.  The  glimpses 
lie  gained  from  this  of  the  surging  mass  of  fugitives 
iiitlamed  liim  with  the  excitement  of  the  chase — of  the 
most  exciting  of  chases,  a  man-hunt.  He  forgot  his 
tears — forgot  how  far  behind  he  was  leaving  all  the 
others,  and  became  eager  only  to  see  more  of  this  fas- 
cinating sight.  Before  he  was  aware  of  it,  he  was 
three  or  four  miles  from  the  Gap. 

Here  a  point  ran  l^oUUy  down  from  the  mountain 
into  the  valley,  and  ended  in  a  ijare  knob  that  over- 
looked the  narrow  creek  bottom,  along  which  the 
beaten  host  was  forging  its  way.  Harry  unhesitat- 
ingly descended  to  this,  and  stood  gazing  at  the  swarm- 
ing horde  below.  It  was  a  sight  to  rivet  the  attention. 
The  narrow  level  space  through  which  the  creek  me- 
nndered  between  the  two  parallel  ranges  of  heights 
was  crowded  as  far  as  he  could  see  with  an  army 
which  defeat  had  degraded  to  a  demoralized  mob.  All 
semblance  of  military  organization  had  well-nigh  dis- 
appeared. Horsemen  and  footmen,  infantry,  cavalry 
and  artillery,  officers  and  privates,  ambulances  creak- 
ing under  their  load  of  wounded  and  dying,  ponder- 
ous artillery  forges,  wagons  loaded  with  food,  wagons 
loaded  with  ammunition,  and  wagons  loaded  with  lux- 
uries for  the  delectation  of  the  higher  officers, — all 


THE   mountaineer's  REVENGE.  115 

huddled  and  crowded  together,  and  struggled  forward 
with  feverish  haste  over  the  logs,  rocks,  gullies  and 
the  deep  waters  of  the  swollen  stream,  and  up  its 
slippery  banks,  through  the  quicksands  and  quagmires 
which  every  passing  foot  and  wheel  beat  into  a  still 
more  grievous  obstacle  for  those  that  followed.  Hope- 
lessly fiigged  horses  fell  for  the  last  time  under  the 
merciless  blows  of  their  frightened  masters,  and 
added  their  great  bulks  to  the  impediments  of  the 
road. 

The  men  were  sullen  and  depressed — cast  down  by 
the  wretchedness  of  earth  and  sky,  and  embittered 
against  their  officers  and  each  other  for  the  blood  use- 
lessly shed — oppressed  with  hunger  and  weariness, 
and  momentarily  fearful  that  new  misfortunes  were 
about  to  descend  upon  them.  In  brief,  it  was  one  of 
the  saddest  spectacles  that  human  history  can  present : 
that  of  a  beaten  and  disorganized  army  in  full  retreat, 
and  an  army  so  new  to  soldiership  and  discipline  as 
to  be  able  to  make  nothing  l)ut  the  worst  out  of  so 
great  a  calamity — it  was  a  rout  after  a  repulse. 

Nearly  all  of  the  passing  thousands  were  too  much 
engrossed  in  the  miseries  of  their  toilsome  progress 
to  notice  the  blue-coated  figure  on  the  bare  knob 
above  the  road.  But  the  rear  of  the  fugitives  was 
brought  up  b}'  a  squad  of  men  moving  much  more 
leisurely,  and  with  some  show  of  order.  They  did 
not  plunge  into  the  mass  of  men  and  animals  and 
vehicles,  and  struggle  with  them  in  the  morass  which 
the  road  had  now  become,  but  deliberately  picked 
their  way  along  the  sides  of  the  valley  where  the 
walking   was  easier.     They  saw  Harry,  and  under- 


116  THE    RED    ACORN. 

stood  as  soon  as  they  saw,  who  he  was.  Two  or  three 
responded  to  their  first  impulse,  and  raising  their  guns 
to  their  shoulders,  fired  at  him.  A  bullet  slapped 
against  the  rock  upon  Avhich  he  was  partially  leaning, 
and  fell  at  his  feet.  Another  spattered  mud  in  his 
face,  and  flew  away,  singing  viciously. 

At  the  reports  the  fear-harassed  mob  shuddered 
and  surged  forward  through  its  entire  length. 

The  companions  of  those  who  fired  seemed  to  re- 
proach them  with  angry  gestures,  pointing  to  the 
effect  upon  the  panicky  mass.  Then  the  whole  squad 
rushed  forward  toward  the  hill. 

Deadly  fear  clutched  Harry  Glen's  heart  as  the 
angry  notes  of  the  bullets  jarred  on  his  senses.  .Then 
pride  and  the  animal  instinct  of  fighting  for  life 
flamed  upward.  So  swiftly  that  he  was  scarcely  con- 
scious of  what  he  was  doing  he  snatched  a  cartridge 
from  the  box,  tore  its  end  between  his  teeth,  and 
rammed  it  home.  He  replaced  the  ramrod  in  its 
thimbles  with  one  quick  thrust,  and  as  he  raised  his 
eyes  from  the  nipple  upon  which  he  had  placed  the 
cap,  he  saw  that  the  Rebel  squad  had  gained  the  foot 
of  the  knoll  and  started  up  its  side.  He  raised  the 
gun  to  fire,  but  as  he  did  so  he  heard  a  voice  call  out 
from  behind  him  : 

"  Skeet  outen  thar  !  Skeet  outen  thar  !  Come 
up  heah,  quick  !  " 

Harry  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  voice.  He 
saw  a  tall,  slender,  black-haired  man  standing  in  the 
woods  at  the  upper  edge  of  the  cleared  space.  He 
was  dressed  in  butternut  jeans,  and  looked  so  much 
like  the  Rebels  in  front  that  Harry  thought  he  was 


THE    mountaineer's   REVENGE.  117 

one  of   them.     The  stranger  noticed  his  indecision, 
and  called  out  again  still  more  peremptorily  : 

"  Skeet  outen  thar,  I  tell  ye  !  Skeet  outen  thar  ! 
Come  up  heah.     I'm  a  friend — Fm  Union." 

His  rifle  came  to  his  face  at  the  same  instant,  and 
Harry  saw  the  flame  and  white  smoke  puii  from  it, 
and  the  sickening  thought  flashed  into  his  mind  that 
the  shot  was  fired  at  him,  and  that  he  would  feel  the 
deadly  ball  pierce  his  body  !  Before  he  could  more 
than  formulate  this  he  heard  the  bullet  pass  him  with 
a  screech,  and  strike  somewhere  with  a  plainly  sharp 
slap.  Turning  his  head  he  saw  the  leading  Reljcl 
stagger  and  fall.  Harry  threw  his  gun  up,  with  the 
readiness  acquired  in  old  hunting  days,  and  fired  at 
the  next  of  his  foes,  who  also  fell !  The  other  Rebels, 
as  they  came  up,  gathered  around  their  fallen  com- 
rades. 

Harry  ran  back  to  where  the  stranger  was,  as 
rapidly  as  the  clinging  mud  and  the  steep  hillside 
would  permit  him. 

'^Purty  fa'r  shot  that,"  said  the  stranger,  setting 
down  the  heavy  rifle  he  was  carefully  reloading,  and 
extending  his  hand  cordially  as  Harry  came  panting 
up.  "  That's  what  I  call  mouty  neat  shooting — knock 
yer  man  over  at  150  yards,  down  hill,  with  that  ole 
smooth-bore,  and  without  no  rest.  The  oldest  han' 
at  the  business  couldnTve  done  no  better." 

Harry  was  too  much  agitated  to  heed  the  compli- 
ment to  his  markraanship.  He  looked  back  anxiously 
and  asked : 

"  Are  they  coming  on  yet  ?  " 
"Skacely  they  hain't,"  said  the   stranger,   with  a 


118  THE   RED   ACORN. 

very  obvious  sneer.  "  Skacely  they  hain't  comin'  on 
no  more.  They've  hed  enuff,  they  hev.  Two  of 
their  best  men  dropt  inter  blue  blazes  on  the  first 
jump  will  take  all  the  aidge  ofFther  appetite  for  larks. 
I  know  'em." 

"But  they  Avill  come  on.  They'll  pursue  us. 
They'll  never  let  us  go  now,"  said  Harry,  reloading 
his  gun  with  hands  trembling  from  the  exertion  and 
excitement. 

He  w^as  yet  too  3'oung  a  soldier  to  understand 
that  his  enemy's  fright  might  be  greater  than  his 
own. 

"Nary  a  time  they  won't,"  said  the  stranger,  de- 
risively. "Them  fellers  are  jest  like  Injuns  ;  they're 
red-hot  till  one  or  two  gits  knocked  over,  an'  then 
they  cool  doAvn  mouty  siiddent.  Why,  me  an'  two 
others  stopt  the  whole  of  ZoUicofTer's  army  for  two 
days  by  shootin'  the  officer  in  command  of  the  ad- 
vance-guard jest  ez  the}^  war  a-comin'  up  the  hill  this 
side  of  Barboursville.  Fact !  They'd  a'  been  at 
Wildcat  last  Friday  ef  we  hedn't  skeered  'em  so. 
They  stopt  an^  hunted  the  whole  country  round  for 
bushwhackers  afore  they'd  move  ary  other  step." 

"  But  who  are  you  ?  "  asked  Harry,  looking  again 
at  his  companion's  butternut  garb, 

"I'm  called  Long  Jim  Fortner,  an'  I've  the  name 
o'  bein'  the  pizenest  Union  man  in  the  Rockassel 
Mountains.  Thar's  a  good  s'tifikit  o'  my  p'litical 
principles  "  (pointing  with  his  thumb  to  where  lay 
the  men  who  had  fallen  under  their  bullets).  Harry 
looked  again  in  that  direction.  Part  of  the  squad 
were  looking  apprehensively  toward  him,  as  if  they 


THE   mountaineer's   REVENGE.  110 

feared  a  volley  from  bushwhackers  concealed  near 
him,  and  others  were  taking  from  the  bodies  of  the 
dead  the  weapons,  belts,  and  other  articles  which  it 
was  not  best  to  leave  for  the  pursuers,  and  still  others 
were  pointing  to  the  rapidly  growing  distance  be- 
tween them  and  main  body,  apparently  adjuring 
haste  in  following. 

The  great  mental  and  bodily  strain  Harry  had  un- 
dergone since  he  had  first  heard  the  sound  of  cannon 
in  the  morning  at  the  foot  of  Wildcat  should  have 
made  him  desperately  weary.  But  the  sight  of  the 
man  falling  before  his  gun  had  fermented  in  his 
blood  a  fierce  intoxication,  as  unknown,  as  unsus- 
pected before  as  the  passion  of  love  had  been  before 
its  first  keen  transports  thrilled  his  heart.  Like  that 
ecstacy,  this  fever  now  consumed  him.  All  fear  of 
harm  to  himself  vanished  in  its  flame.  He  had  actu- 
ally slain  one  enemy.  Why  not  another  ?  He  raised 
his  musket.  The  mountaineer  laid  his  hand  up- 
on it. 

"No,"  he  said,  "that's  not  the  game  to  hunt. 
"They'll  do  when  thar's  notliin'  better  to  be  hed,  but 
now  powder  an'  lead  kin  be  used  to  more  advantage. 
Besides  they're  outen  range  o'  your  smooth-bore  now. 
Come." 

As  Fortner  threw  his  rifle  across  his  shoulder 
Harry  looked  at  it  curiously.  It  had  a  long,  heavy, 
six-sided  barrel,  with  a  large  bore,  double  triggers, 
and  a  gaily  striped  hickory  ramrod  in  its  thimbles. 
The  stock,  of  fine,  curly  rock-maple,  was  ornamented 
with  silver  stars  and  crescents,  and  in  the  breech 
were  cunning  little  receptacles  for  tow  and  patches, 


J  20  THE   RED   ACORN. 

and  other  rifle  necessaries,  each  closed  by  a  polished 
silver  cover  that  shut  with  a  snap.  It  was  evidently 
the  triumph  of  some  renowned  Kentucky  gunsmith's 
skill. 

The  mountaineer's  foot  was  on  the  soil  he  had 
trodden  since  childhood,  and  Harry  found  it  quite 
difficult  to  keep  pace  with  his  stron^^,  quick  stride. 
His  step  landed  firm  and  sure  on  the  sloping  surfaces, 
where  Harry  slipped  or  shambled.  Clinging  vines 
and  sharp  briers  were  avoided  without  an  apparent 
eflfort,  where  every  one  grasped  Harry,  or  tore  his 
face  and  hands. 

The  instinct  of  the  wolf  or  the  panther  seemed  to 
lead  Fortner  by  the  shortest  courses  through  the 
pathless  woods  to  where  he  came  unperceived  close 
upon  the  flank  of  the  mass  of  harassed  fugitives. 
Then  creeping  behind  a  convenient  tree  with  the 
supple  lightness  of  the  leopard  crouching  for  a  spring, 
he  scanned  with  eager  eyes  the  mounted  officers 
within  range.     Selecting  his  prey  he  muttered  : 

"  'Taiu't  him^  but  he'll  hev  to  do,  this  time." 

The  weapon  rang  out  shaiply.  The  stricken  offi- 
cer threw  up  his  sword  arm,  his  bridle  arm  clutched 
his  saddle-pommel,  as  if  resisting  the  attempt  of 
Death  to  unhorse  him.  Then  the  muscles  all  re- 
laxed, and  he  fell  into  the  arms  of  those  who  had  hur- 
ried to  him. 

Harry  fired  into  the  mass  the  next  instant ;  a  few 
random  shots  replied,  and  another  impetus  of  fear 
spurred  the  mob  onward. 

Fortner  and  Harry  sped  away  to  another  point  of 
interception,  where  the  same  scene  was  repeated,  and 


THE    mountaineer's    REVENGE.  121 

then  to  another,  and  then  to  a  third,  Fortner  mutter- 
ing after  each  shot  his  disappointment  at  not  finding 
the  one  whom  he  anxiously  sought. 

When  they  hurried  away  the  third  time  they  were 
compelled  to  make  a  wide  circuit,  for  the  little  valley 
suddenly  broadened  out  into  a  considerable  plain. 
Upon  this  the  long-drawn-out  line  of  fugitives  gath- 
ered in  a  compact,  turmoiling  mass. 

"That's  Little  Rockassel  Ford,"  said  Fortner, 
pointing  with  his  left  hand  to  the  base  of  the  moun- 
tain that  rose  steeply  above  the  farther  side  of  the  com- 
motion. "  That's  Rockassel  Mountain  runnin'  up  thar 
inter  the  clouds.  The  Little  Rockassel  River  runs 
round  hits  foot.  That's  what's  a-stoppin'  'em. 
They'll  hev  a  turrible  time  gittin'  acrost  hit.  Hit's 
mouty  hard  crossin'  at  enny  time,  but  hit's  awful 
now,  fur  the  Rockassel's  boomin'.  The  big  rains  hev 
sent  her  up  kitin',  an'  hit's  now  breast-deep  thar  in 
the  Ford.  We'll  git  round  whar  we  kin  see  hit 
all." 

Another  wide  detour  to  keep  themselves  in  the 
concealment  of  the  woods  brought  Fortner  and  Harry 
out  upon  an  acclivity  that  almost  overhung  the  ford, 
and  those  gathered  around  it.  The  two  Unionists 
crawled  cautiously  through  the  cedars  and  laurel  to 
the  very  edge  of  the  cliflfand  looked  down  upon  their 
enemies.  They  were  so  near  that  everything  was 
plainly  visible,  and  the  hum  of  conversation  reached 
their  ears.  They  could  even  hear  the  commands  of 
the  officers  vainly  trying  to  restore  order,  the  curses 
of  the  teamsters  upon  their  jaded  animals,  the  ribald 
songs  of  the  few  whose  canteens  furnished  them  with 


122  TJIE    RED   ACORN . 

forgetfiilness  of  defeat,  and  contempt  for  the  surround- 
ing misery. 

All  the  flooding  showers  which  had  l)een  falling 
upon  hundreds  of  square  miles  of  precipitous  moun- 
tain sides  were  now  gorging  through  the  crooked, 
narrow  throat  of  the  Little  Rockcastle.  The  torrent 
filled  the  ragged  })anks  to  the  l)rini,  and  in  their 
greedy  swirl  undermined  and  tore  from  there  logs, 
great  trees,  and  even  rocks. 

This  w^as  the  barrier  that  sta\'ed  the  flight  of  th(^ 
fugitive  throng,  and  it  was  this  that  they  strove  to 
put  between  them  and  the  presumed  revengeful  vic- 
tors. 

On  the  bank,  field  and  line  officers  lal)orod  to  calm 
their  men  and  restore  organization.  It  was  in  vain 
that  they  pointed  out  that  there  had  been  no  pursuit 
thus  far,  and  the  unlikelihood  of  there  being  one. 
When  did  Panic  yield  to  Reason  ?  In  those  demor- 
alized ears  the  thunder  of  the  cannon  at  Wildcat,  the 
crash  of  the  bursting  shells,  and  the  deadly  whistle 
of  bullets  still  rang  louder  than  any  w^ords  oflScers 
could  speak. 

The  worst  frightened  crowded  into  the  stream  in 
a  frenzy,  and  struggled  wildly  with  the  current  that 
swept  their  feet  oS"  the  slimy  limestone  of  the  bottom, 
with  the  logs  and  trees  dashing  along  like  so  many 
catapult-bolts,  and  with  the  horses  and  teams  urged  on 
b}^  men  more  fear-stricken  still.  On  the  steep  slope  on 
the  other  side  glimmered  numbers  of  little  fires  where 
those  who  were  luck}'  enough  to  get  across  were 
warming  and  drying  themselves. 

"Heavens!"    s:iid    Harry    with    an    anticipator}- 


THE    mountaineer's   REVENGE.  123 

shudder,  "if  our  men  should  come  up,  the  first  can- 
non sliot  would  make  half  these  men  drown  them- 
selves in  trying  to  get  away." 

Fortner  heeded  him  not.  The  mountaineer's  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  a  tall,  imperious  looking  man,  whose 
collar  bore  the  silver  stars  of  a  Colonel. 

"  He  has  found  his  man  at  last,"  said  Harry,  no- 
ticing his  companion's  attitude,  and  picking  up  his 
own  gun  in  readiness  for  what  might  come. 

Fortner  half-cocked  his  rifle,  took  from  its  nipple 
the  cap  that  had  been  there  an  hour  and  flung  it  away 
He  picked  the  powder  out  of  the  tube,  replaced  it 
with  fresh  from  his  horn,  selected  another  cap  care- 
fully, fitted  it  on  the  nipple,  and  let  the  hammer 
down  witli  the  faintest  snap  to  force  it  to  its  place. 

His  eyes  had  the  look  of  the  rattlesnake's  when  it 
coils  for  a  spring,  and  his  breast  swelled  out  as  if  he 
was  summoning  all  his  strength.  He  stepped  for- 
ward to  a  tree  so  lightly  that  there  came  no  rustle 
from  the  dead  leaves  he  trod  upon.  Harry  took  his 
place  on  the  other  side  of  the  tree,  and  cocked  his 
musket. 

So  close  were  they  to  hundreds  of  Rebels  with 
arms  in  their  hands,  that  it  seemed  simply  an  invita- 
tion to  death  to  call  their  attention. 

Fortner  turned  and  waved  Harry  back  as  he 
heard  him  approach,  but  Glen  had  apparently  ex- 
hausted all  his  capacity  for  fearing,  in  the  march  upon 
Wildcat,  and  he  was  now  calmly  desperate. 

The  Colonel  rode  out  from  the  throng  toward  the 
level  spot  at  the  base  of  the  ledge  upon  which  the  two 
were  concealed.     The  horse  he  bestrode  was  a  mag- 


124  TUK   RED   ACORN. 

niticeiit  thoroughbred,  whose  fine  action  coulil  not  be 
concealed,  even  by  his  great  fatigue. 

"  Go  and  find  Mars,"  said  tlie  Colonel  to  an 
orderly,  "and  tell  him  to  build  a  fire  against  that 
rock  there,  and  make  us  some  coffee.  We  will  not  be 
able  to  get  across  the  ford  before  midnight."  The 
orderly  rode  off,  and  the  Colonel  dismounted  and 
walked  forward  with  the  cramped  gait  of  a  man  who 
had  been  long  in  the  saddle. 

Still  louder  yells  arose  from  the  ford.  A  i)ower- 
ful  horse,  ridden  by  an  officer  who  was  trying  to  force 
his  way  across,  had  slipped  on  the  river's  glassy  bed- 
stones, in  the  midst  of  Ji  compact  throng,  and  carried 
many  with  it  down  into  the  dccj)  water  below  the 
crossing. 

The  Colonel's  lip  curled  with  contempt  as  he  con- 
tinued his  walk. 

A  sharp  little  click  sounded  from  Fortner's  rifie. 
He  had  set  the  hair  trigger. 

He  stepped  out  clear  of  the  tree,  and  gave  a  pecu- 
liar whistle.  The  Colonel  started  as  he  heard  the 
sound,  looked  up,  saw  who  uttered  it,  and  instinct- 
ively reached  his  hand  back  to  tlie  holster  for  a 
revolver. 

Down  would  scarcel}'  have  been  ruffled  by  Fort- 
ner's  light  touch  upon  the  trigger. 

Fire  flamed  from  the  rifle's  muzzle. 

The  Colonel's  haughty  eyes  became  stenier  than 
ever.  The  holster  was  torn  as  he  wrenched  the  revol- 
ver out.  A  clutch  at  the  mane,  and  he  fell  forward 
on  the  wet  brown  leaves  —  dead  ! 


THE   MOU^'TALNEER  S   REVENGE.  125 

Dumb  amazement  filled  the  horse's  great  eyes  ; 
he  stretched  out  his  neck  and  smelled  his  lifeless 
master  inquiringly. 

A  shot  from  Harry's  musket,  fifty  from  the 
astounded  Rebels,  and  the  two  Unionists  sped  away 
unhurt  into  the  cover  of  the  dark  cedars. 


126  THE   KED    ACORN. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THROUGH   THE   MOUNTAINS   AND   THE    NIGHT. 

<.iod  sits  uiwn  the  Throne  of  Klnfrs 
And  Judges  unto  Judgment  brings  : 

Why  thi-n  so  long 

Maintain  your  wrong, 
And  favor  lawless  things  ? 

Defend  the  poor,  the  fatherless  ; 
Their  crj-Ing  Injuries  redress  : 

And  vindicate 

The  desolate. 
Whom  wicked  men  oppress. 

— Gkobok  Sandy's  Pabaphbase  of  Psalm  Lixxir. 

"TpORTXER  and  Gli^n  were  soon  so  far  away  from 
-L  the  Ford  that  the  only  reminder  of  its  neigli- 
borhood  were  occasional  glimpses,  caught  through 
rifts  in  the  forest,  of  the  lofty  slope  of  Rockcastle 
:\loantain,  now  outlined  in  the  gathering  darkness  by 
twinkling  fires,  which  increased  in  number,  and 
climbed  higher  towards  the  clouds  as  fast  as  the  fugi- 
tives succeeded  in  struggling  across  the  river. 

"That's  a  wonderful  sight,"  said  Harry,  as  they 
paused  on  a  summit  to  rest  and  catch  breath.  "It 
reminds  me  of  some  of  the  war  scenes  in  Scott,  or 
the  Iliad." 

"  Hit  looks  ter  me  like  a  gineral  coon-hunt,"  said 
Fortner,  "  on'y  over  thar  hit's  the  coons,  an'  not  the 
hunters,  that  hev  the  torches.  I  wish  I  could  put  a 
bum-shoU  inter  every  fire." 

"You  are  merciless." 


THKOUGH    THE    MOUNTAINS   AND   THE    NIGHT.  127 

"No  more  'n  they  are.  They've  ez  little  marcy  ez 
a  pack  o'  wolves  in  a  sheep-pen. 

^•Well,  continued  Fortner,  meditatively,  "Ole 
Rockassel's  gittin'  a  glut  to-night.  She'd  orten't  ter 
need  no  more  now  fur  a  hundred  yeahs." 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Harry. 

"Why,  they  say  thet  the  Rockassel  hez  ter  hev  a 
man  every  Spring  an'  Fall.  The  Injuns  believed  hit, 
an'  hit's  bin  so  ever  sence  the  white  folks  come  inter 
the  country.  Last  Spring  hit  war  the  turn  o'  the 
Fortner  kin  to  gi'n  her  a  man,  an'  she  levied  on  a  fust 
cousin  o'  mine — a  son  o'  Aunt  Debby  Brill.  But  less 
jog  on  ;  we've  got  a  good  piece  fur  ter  go." 

It  was  now  night — black  and  starless,  and  the 
dense  woods  through  which  they  were  traveling 
made  the  darkness  thick  and  impenetrable.  But  no 
check  in  Fortner's  speed  hinted  at  any  ignorance  ot 
the  course  or  encountering  of  obstacles.  He  contin- 
ued to  stride  forward  with  the  same  swift,  certain 
step  as  in  the  day  time.  But  for  Harry,  who  could 
see  nothing  but  his  leader's  head  and  shoulders,  and 
whose  every  effort  was  required  to  keep  these  in  sight, 
the  journey  was  full  of  painful  toil.  The  relaxation 
from  the  intense  strain  manifested  itself  in  proportion 
as  they  seemed  to  recede  from  the  presence  of  the 
enemy,  and  his  spirits  flagged  continually. 

In  the  daylight  the  brush  and  briers  had  been  an- 
noying and  hurtful,  and  the  roughness  of  the  way 
very  trying.  Now  the  one  was  wounding  and  cruel ; 
the  other  made  eveiy  step  with  his  jaded  limbs  a  tor- 
ture. With  the  low  spirits  engendered  by  the  great 
fatigue,  came  a  return  of  the  old  fears  and  tremors. 


128  THE    RED    ACORN. 

The  continual  wnils  of  the  wildcats  roundabout  filled 
him  with  gloomy  forebodings.  Every  hair  of  his 
head  stood  stiffly  up  in  mortal  terror  when  a  huge 
catamount,  screaming  like  a  fiend,  leaped  down  from 
a  tree,  and  confronted  them  for  an  instant  with  hid- 
eously-gleaming yellow,  eyes. 

''Cuss-an'-burn  the  nasty  varmint!  "  said  Fortner 
angrily,  snatching  up  a  pine  knot  from  his  feet  and 
flino:ing  it  at  the  beast,  which  vanished  into  the  dark- 
ness  with  another  curdling  scream. 

"Don't  that  man  know  what  fear  is T'  wondered 
Harry,  ignorant  that  the  true  mountaineer  feels  to- 
ward these  vociferous  felidfe  about  the  same  contempt 
with  which  a  plainsman  regards  a  coyote. 

At  length  Fortner  slackened  his  pace,  and  began 
to  move  with  caution.  • 

"  Are  we  coming  upon  the  enemy  again  ?  "  asked 
Harry,  in  a  loud  whisper,  which  had  yet  a  perceptible 
quaver  in  it. 

"  No,"  answered  Fortner,  "  but  we're  a-comin'  ter 
what  is  every  bit  an'  grain  ez  dangersome.  Heah's 
whar  the  path  winds  round  Blacksnake  Clift,  an'  ye'U 
hev  ter  be  ez  keerful  o'  your  footin'  ez  ef  ye  war 
treadin'  the  slippaiy  ways  o'  sin.  The  path's  no 
wider  'n  a  hoss!s  back,  an'  no  better  ter  walk  on.  On 
the  right  hand  side  hit's  several  rods  down  ter  whar 
the  creek's  tearin'  'long  like  a  mad  dog.  Heah  hit 
now,  can't  ye  ? '' 

For  some  time  the  roar  of  the  torrent  sweeping 
the  gorire  had  filled  Harry's  ears. 

"  Ye  want  ter  walk  slow,''  continued  Fortner,  "  an' 
feel  keerfuUy  with  yer  foot  every  time  afore  ye  sot 


THROUGH   THE    xMOUNTAINS   AND   THE   NIGHT.  129 

hit  squar'ly  down.  Keep  yer  left  hand  a-feelin'  the 
rocks  above  yer,  so'ts  ter  make  shore  all  the  time  thet 
ye're  close  ter  'em.  'Bout  half  way,  thar's  a  big  break 
in  the  path.  Hit's  jess  a  long  step  acrost  hit.  Take 
one  step  arter  I  say  thet  I'm  acrost ;  then  feel  keer- 
fully  with  yer  left  foot  fur  the  aidge  o'  the  break,  an' 
then  step  out  ez  long  ez  ye  kin  with  yer  right.  That'll 
bring  ye  over.  Be  shore  o'  yer  feet,  an'  ye'll  be  all 
right." 

Harry  trembled  more  than  at  any  time  before. 
They  were  already  on  the  path  around  the  steep  cliff. 
The  darkness  was  inky.  The  roar  of  the  waters  be- 
low rose  loudly  —  angrily.  The  wails  of  the  wildcats 
l)ehind,  overhead  and  in  front  of  them,  made  it  seem 
as  if  the  sighing  pines  and  cedars  were  inhabited  with 
lost  spirits  shrieking  warnings  of  impending  disaster. 

Harry's  foot  came  down  upon  a  boulder  which 
tiu-ned  under  his  weight.  He  regained  his  balance 
with  a  start,  but  the  stone  toppled  over.  He  listened. 
There  were  scores  of  heart-beats  before  it  splashed 
in  the  water  below. 

"Not  so  much  as  a  twig  between  here  and  etern- 
ity," he  said  to  himself,  with  a  shudder.  Then  aloud  : 
"  Can't  we  stay  here,  some  place,  and  not  go  along 
there  to-night  ?  " 

The  roar  of  the  water  drowned  his  voice  before  it 
reached  Fortner's  ears,  and  Harry,  obeying  the  in- 
stinct to  accept  leadership,  followed  the  mountaineer 
tremblingly. 

In  a  little  while  he  felt — more  than  saw — Fortner 
stop,  adjust  his  feet,  and  make  a  long  stride  forward 
with  one  of  them.  Glen  collected  himself  for  the 
I 


130  THE     RED    ACORN. 

same  effort.  He  had  need  of  all  his  rosolution,  for 
the  many  narrow  escapes  Avhich  he  had  made  from 
slipping  into  the  hungry  torrent,  had  shaken  every 
nerve. 

'Tm  over,"  called  out  Fortucr.  "Ye  tr}^  hit 
now. " 

Harry  balanced  his  gun  so  as  to  embarrass  him  the 
least,  and  carefully  felt  with  his  left  foot  for  the  edge 
of  the  chasm.  The  catamount  announced  his  renewed 
presence  by  a  vindictive  scream.  The  clouds  parted 
just  enough  to  let  through  a  rift  of  gray  light,  but  it 
fell  not  upon  the  brink  of  the  black  gap  in  the  path. 
It  showed  for  an  instant  the  whirlpool,  with  fragments 
of  tree  trunks,  of  ghastly  likeness  to  drowned  human 
bodies,  eddying  dizzily  around. 

"Come  on,"  called  out  Fortner,  impatiently. 

Harry  stepped  out  desperately.  For  a  mental 
eternity  he  hung  in  air.  His  hands  relaxed  and  his 
gun  dropped  with  a  crash  and  a  splash.  Then  his 
foot  touched  the  other  side  with  nervous  doubtfulness. 
It  slipped,  and  he  felt  himself  falling — falling  into 
all  that  he  feared.  Fortner  grasped  his  collar  with  a 
strong  hand,  and  dragged  him  up  against  the  rocky 
wall  of  the  path. 

"Thar,  yer  all  right,"  he  said,  panting  with  the 
exertion,  "but  hit  wuz  a  mouty  loud  call  fur  ye. 
GabrieFs  ho'n  could  n't  've  made  a  much  mo'  power- 
ful one." 

"IVe  lost  my  gun,"  said  Harry,  regretfully,  as 
soon  as  he  could  compose  himself. 

"  Cuss-an'-burn  the  blasted  ole  smooth-bore,"  said 
Fortner,  contemptuously.     ''  Don't  waste  no  tears  on 


THROUGH   THE    MOUNTAINS    AND   THE    NIGHT.  131 

thet  ole  kick-out-behiud.  We'll  go  "long  'tween  Wild- 
cat an'  the  Ford,  an'  pick  up  a  wagon-load  uv  ez  good 
shooters  ez  thet  clumsy  chunk  o'  pot-metal  wuz. 
Shake  yourself  together.  We've  on'y  got  a  mile  or 
so  ter  go  now." 

In  Harry's  condition,  the  'Mnile  or  so"  seemed  to 
be  stretching  out  a  long  ways  around  the  globe,  and 
he  began  to  ask  himself  how  near  he  was  to  the 
much-referred-to  "heart  of  the  Southern  Confed- 
eracy." 

At  length  a  little  fading  toward  gray  of  the  thick 
blackness,  told  that  they  had  emerged  from  the  heavy 
woods  into  more  open  country.  Harry  thought  they 
were  come  to  fields,  but  he  could  see  nothing,  and 
without  remark  plodded  on  painfully  after  his  leader. 

Suddenly  a  pack  of  dogs  inuuediately  in  front  of 
them  broke  the  stillness  with  a  startling  diapason, 
ranging  from  the  deep  bass  of  the  mastiff  to  the  ring- 
ing bark  of  the  fox-hounds.  Mingled  with  this  was 
the  sound  of  the  whole  pack  rushing  fiercely  forward. 
Fortncr  stopped  in  his  tracks  so  abruptly  that  Glen 
stumbled  against  him.  The  mountaineer  gave  the 
peculiar  whistle  he  had  uttered  at  the  Ford.  The 
rush  ceased  instantly.  The  deep  growls  of  the  mas- 
tiffs and  bull-dogs  stopped  likewise  ;  only  the  hounds 
and  the  shrill -voiced  young  dogs  continued  bark- 
ing. 

The  darkness  was  rent  by  a  long  narrow  lane  of 
light.  A  door  had  l)een  opened  in  a  tightly-closed 
house,  just  beyond  the  dogs. 

"  Down,  Tige  !  Git  out,  Beauty  !  "  said  Fortner, 
imperiously.     '"Lay  down,  Watch!     Quiet,  Bruno! 


132  THE     RED    ACORN. 

The  clamors  of  the  gang  changed  to  little  yelps  of 
welcome. 

"Is  that  you,  Jim?"  inquired  a  high-pitched  but 
not  unpleasant  voice,  from  the  door. 

"Yes,  Aunt  Debh}^"  answered  Fortner,  "an'  I 
hev  some  one  with  me." 

As  the  two  approached,  surrounded  by  the  fawn- 
ing dogs,  a  slender,  erect  woman  appeared  in  the 
doorway,  holding  above  her  head,  by  its  nail  and 
chain,  one  of  the  rude  iron  lamps  common  in  the 
houses  of  the  South. 

"Everything all  right,  Aunt  Debby  ?  "  asked  Fort- 
ner, as,  after  entering,  ho  turned  from  firmly  securing 
the  door,  hy  placing  across  it  a  strong  wooden  bar 
that  rested  in  the  timbers  on  either  side. 

"  Yes,  thank  God  ! "  she  said  with  quiet  fervor. 
She  stepped  with  graceful  freedom  over  the  floor,  and 
hung  the  lamp  up  by  thrusting  the  nail  into  a  crack 
in  one  of  the  logs  forming  the  walls  of  the  room. 
"An' how  is  hit  with  ye?"  she  asked,  facing  Fort- 
ner, with  her  large  gray  eyes  eloquent  with  solicitude. 

"O,  ez  fur  me,  I'm  jes  ez  sound  ez  when  I  left 
heah  last  week,  'cept  thet  Fm  tireder  "n  a  plow  mule 
at  night,  an'  hongrier  nor  a  b'ar  thet's  lived  all  Win- 
ter by  suckin'  hits  paws."* 

''I  s'pose  y'  air  tired  an'  hongry  ;  ye  look  hit," 
said  the  woman,  with  a  compassionate  glance  at  Harry, 
who  had  sunk  limply  into  a  chair  before  the  glowing 
wood-fire  that  filled  up  a  large  part  of  the  end  of  the 
room. 

"Set  down  by  the  fire,"  she  continued,  "an'  I'll 
git  ye  some  pone  an'  milk.     Thar's  nothin'  better  ter 


THROUGH   THE    MOUNTAINS   AM)   THE    NIGHT.  1  u3 

start  in  on  when  yer  rale  empty."  She  went  to  a 
rude  cupboard  in  the  farther  part  of  the  room,  whence 
the  note  of  colliding  crockery  soon  gave  information 
that  she  was  busy. 

Fortner  took  a  bunch  of  tow  from  his  pouch,  and 
with  it  wiped  ofl' every  particle  of  dumi)ness  from  the 
outside  of  his  rifle,  after  which  he  laid  the  gun  on 
two  wooden  hooks  above  the  fireplace,  and  hung  the 
accoutermcnts  on  deer  hoiTis  at  its  breech. 

"  Pull  oflF  yer  shoes  an'  toast  yer  feet,"  he  said  to 
Harry.     "  The  firell  draw  the  tiredness  right  out."" 

Harry's  relaxed  fingers  fumbled  vainly  with  the 
wet  and  obstinate  shoe-strings.  Aunt  Debby  came 
up  with  a  large  bowl  of  milk  in  each  hand,  and  a 
great  circular  loaf  of  corn-bread  under  her  arm.  She 
placed  her  burden  upon  the  floor,  and  with  quick, 
deft  fingers  loosened  the  stubborn  knots  without  an 
apparent  efibrt,  drew  oflf  the  muddy  shoes  and  set 
them  in  a  dark  corner  near  the  fire]:)lace  before  Harry 
fan-ly  realized  that  he  had  let  a  Avoman  do  this  hum- 
ble office  for  him.  The  sight  and  smell  of  food 
aroused  him  from  the  torpor  of  intense  fatigue,  and 
he  devoured  the  homely  fare  set  before  him  with  a 
relish  that  he  had  never  before  felt  for  victuals.  As 
he  ate  his  senses  awakened  so  that  he  studied  his 
hostess  with  interest.  Hair  which  the  advancing 
years,  while  bleaching  to  a  snowy  white  had  still  been 
unable  to  rob  of  the  curling  waves  of  girlhood,  rip- 
pled over  a  broad  white  brow,  sober  but  scarcely 
wrinkled  ;  large,  serious  but  gentle  gray  eyes,  and  a 
small,  firm  mouth,  filled  with  even  white  teeth  were 
the  salient  features  of  a  face  at  once  resolute,  refined 


134  TTT?-:    RED   ACUKN. 

and  womanly.  Long,  slender  hands,  small  feet,  cov- 
ered with  coarse  but  well-fitting  shoes,  a  slight,  erect 
figure,  sugsrestive  of  nervous  strength,  and  clad  in  a 
shapely  homespun  gown  stamped  her  as  a  superior 
specimen  of  the  class  of  mountaineer  women  to  which 
she  belonged. 

'' Heah's  "nuther  pone,  honey,"  she  sud  to  Fort- 
ner,  as  she  handed  both  of  them  segments  of  another 
disk  of  corn-bread,  to  replace  that  which  they  had 
ravenously  devoured.  "  An'  le'me  till  yer  bowls 
agin.  Hit  takes  a  powerful  sight  o'  bread  an'  milk 
ter  do  when  one's  rale  hongry.  But  "tain't  like  meat 
vittels.     Ye  can't  eat  'nuft'  ter  do  ye  harm." 

She  took  from  its  place  behind  the  rough  stones 
that  formed  the  jam  of  the  fireplace  a  rude  broom, 
made  by  shaving  down  to  near  its  end  long  slender 
strips  from  a  stick  of  pliant  green  hickory,  then  turn- 
ing these  over  the  end  and  confining  them  by  a  band 
into  an  exaggerated  mop  or  brush.  With  this  she 
swept  back  from  the  hearth  of  uneven  stones  the  live 
coals  flung  out  by  the  fire. 

"  Thar's  some  walnut  sticks  amongst  thet  wood," 
she  said  as  she  replaced  the  hearth-broom,  "  an'  they 
pops  awful." 

From  a  pouch-like  basket,  made  of  skilfully  inter- 
woven hickory  strips,  and  hanging  against  the  wall, 
she  took  a  half-finished  stocking  and  a  ball  of  yarn. 
Drawing  a  low  rocking-chair  up  into  the  light,  she 
seated  herself  and  began  knitting. 

As  he  neared  the  last  of  his  second  bowl  of  milk 
Fortner  bethought  himself,  and  glanced  at  Aunt 
Debby.      Her  work   had   fallen    from   her   nervous 


THROUGH   THE   MOUNTAINS   AND   THE   NIGHT.  135 

hands  and  lay  idly  in  her  Jap,  while  her  great  eyes 
were  fixed  hungrily  upon  him. 

"  They've  bin  fonten  over  ter  Wildcat  to-day,"  he 
said,  answering  their  inquiry,  without  waiting  to 
empty  his  mouth. 

"Yes,  I  heared  the  cannons,"  she  said  with  such 
gentle  voice  as  made  her  dialect  seem  quaint  and 
sweet.  "  I  dim  up  on  Bald  Rock  at  the  top  o' 
the  mounting  an'  lissened.  I  could  see  the  smoke 
raisin',  but  I  couldn't  tell  nothin'.    Much  uv  a  font  ?  " 

"Awful  big  'un.  Biggest  'un  sence  Buner  Vister. 
Ole  Zollicoifer  pitched  his  whole  army  outer  Kunnel 
Garrard's  rijimint.  Some  other  rijiments  cum  up  ter 
help  Kunnel  Garrard,  an'  both  sides  fit  like  devils  fur 
three  or  fur  hours,  an'  the  dead  jess  lay  in  winrows, 
an' " 

The  demands  of  Fortner's  unappeased  appetite 
here  rose  superior  to  his  desire  to  impart  information. 
He  stopped  to  munch  the  last  bit  of  corn-bread  and 
drain  his  bowl  to  the  bottom. 

"Yes,"  said  Aunt  Debby,  inhospitably  disregard- 
ing the  exhaustion  of  the  provender,  and  speaking  a 
little  more  quickly  than  her  wont,  "  but  which  side 
whipt  ?  " 

"Our'n,  in  course,"  said  Fortner,  with  nettled  sur- 
prise at  the  question.  "Our'n,  in  course.  Old  Zol- 
licoflfer  got  ez  bad  a  lickin'  ez  ever  Gineral  Zach  Tay- 
lor gi'n  the  Mexicans. " 

"  Rayally  ? "  she  said.  Gratification  showed  itself 
in  little  lines  that  coursed  about  her  mouth,  and  her 
e^^es  illumined  as  when  a  light  shines  through  a  win- 
dow 


136  THE   RED   ACORN. 

"Yes,"  answered  Fortner.  "Like  hound:^,  and 
run  clean  ter  the  Ford,  whar  they're  now  a-foiiten  an' 
strugglin  to  git  acrost,  and  drowndin'  like  so  many 
stampeded  cattle. " 

'^  Glory  !  Thank  God  !  "  said  Aunt  Dol)l)y.  Her 
earnestness  expressed  itself  more  by  the  intensity  of 
the  tone  than  its  rise. 

"Evidently  a  tolerable  regular  attendant  at  Meth- 
odist camp-meetings,"  thought  Harry,  rousing  a  little 
from  the  torpor  into  which  he  was  falling. 

Her  faded  cheek  flushed  with  a  little  confusion  at 
having  suftered  this  outburst,  and  picking  up  her 
knitting  she  nervously  resumed  work. 

Fortner  looked  wistfully  at  the  bottom  of  his 
emptied  bowl.  Aunt  Debby  took  it  away  and  speed- 
ily returned  with  it  fille^l.  She  came  back  with  an 
air  of  eager  exi)ectancy  that  Fortner  would  continue 
his  narrative.  But  unsatisfied  hunger  still  dominated 
him,  and  he  had  thoughts  and  mouth  only  for  food. 
She  sat  down  and  resumed  her  knitting  with  an  ap- 
parent effort  at  composing  herself. 

For  a  full  minute  the  needles  clicked  industri- 
ously. Then  they  stopped ;  the  long,  slender  fingers 
clenched  themselves  about  the  ball  of  yarn ;  she 
faced  Fortner,  her  eyes  shining  with  a  less  brilliant 
but  intenser  light. 

"Jim  Fortner,"  she  said  with  low,  measured  dis- 
tinctness, "why  don't  ye  go  on?  Is  thar  somethin' 
thet  ye'r  afeered  ter  tell  me  ?  What  hez  happened 
ter  our  folks  ?  Don't  flinch  from  tellin  me  the  wust. 
I'm  allers  willin'  ter    bow  ter  the  will  o'  the  Lord 


THROUGH   THE   MOUNTAINS   AND   THE   NIGHT.  137 

without  a  murmur.  On'y  let  me  know  what 
hit  is." 

"Why,  Aunt  Debby,  thar  hain't  been  nothin' 
happened  ter  'em,"  said  Fortner,  deeply  surprised. 
"Thar  ain't  nothin'  ter  tell  ye  'bout  'em.  They're  all 
safe.  They're  in  Kunnel  Garrard's  rijimint,  ez  ye 
know,  an'  hit  fit  behind  breastworks,  an'  didn't  lose 
nobody,  ska.cely — leastwise  none  uv  our  kin." 

She  rose  quickly  from  her  chair.  The  ball  of  yarn 
fell  from  her  lap  and  rolled  unheeded  toward  the 
glowing  coals  under  the  forelog.  With  arms  out- 
stretched, hands  clasped,  and  eyes  directed  upward 
in  fervent  appeal,  there  was  much  to  recall  that  Deb- 
orah from  whom  she  took  her  name — that  prophetess 
and  priestess  who,  standing  under  the  waving  palm 
trees  of  Baal-Tamar,  inspired  her  countrymen  to  go 
forth  and  overthrow  and  destroy  their  Canaanitish  op- 
pressors. 

"O,  God!"  she  said  in  low,  thrilling  tones, 
"  Thou'st  afo retimes  gi'n  me  much  ter  be  thankful 
fur,  as  well  ez  much  ter  dumbly  ba'r  when  Thy  rod 
smote  me  fur  reasons  thet  I  couldn't  understand. 
Thou  knows  how  gladly  I'd've  gi'n  not  on'y  my  pore, 
nigh-spent  life,  but  also  those  o'  my  kinsmen,  which 
I  prize  much  higher,  fur  sech  a  vict'ry  ez  this  over 
the  inimies  of  Thee  an'  Thy  people.  But  Thou'st 
gi'n  hit  free  ez  Thy  marcy,  without  axin'  blood  sacri- 
fice from  any  on  us.  I  kin  on'y  praise  Thee  an'  Thy 
goodness  all  my  days." 

Fortner  rose  and  li-stened  with  bowed  head  while 
she  spoke.  When  she  finished  he  snatched  up  the 
6* 


138  THE   RED   ACORN. 

ball  of  shriveling  yarn  and  qucnclied  its  smoking 
with  his  hand.  Looking  tixedly  at  this  he  said  softly: 
"Aunt  Dehby,  honey,  I  hain't  tole  ye  all  yit.'' 

"No,  Jim? " 

"No,"  saitl  he,  slowly  winding:  iij)  the  yarn,  ''Ar- 
ter  the  fouten  wuz  thru  with  at  the  Gap  I  slipt  down 
the  mounting,  an'  come  in  on  the  r'ar  uv  those  fel- 
lers, an'  me  an'  this  ere  man  drapt  two  on  'em." 

"I  kinder  'spected  ye  would  do  something  uv 
thet  sort." 

"Then  we  tuk  a  short  cut  an'  overtuk  'em  agin, 
an'  we  drapt  another." 

Aunt  Debby's  eyes  expressed  surprise  at  this  con- 
tinued good  fortune. 

"An'  then  we  tuk  'nuthcr  short  cut,  an'  saved 
'nuther  one." 

Aunt  l)ebl)y  waited  for  him  to  continue. 

"At  last — jess  ez  they  come  ter  the  Ford — I  seed 
our  man," 

"Seed  Kunnel  Bill  Pennington?"  The  great 
gray  eyes  were  blazing  now. 

"  Yes."  Fortner's  speech  was  the  spiritless  drawl 
of  the  mountains,  and  it  had  now  become  so  langui<l 
that  it  seemed  doubtful  if  after  the  enunciation  of 
each  word  whether  vitality  enough  remained  to  evolve 
a  successor.  "Yes,"  he  repeated  with  a  yawn,  as  he 
stuck  the  ball  of  yarn  upon  the  needles  and  gave  the 
whole  a  toss  which  landed  it  in  the  wall-basket,  "an' 
I  got  him,  tew.'' 

"  O,  just  God  !     Air  ye  shore  ? " 

"Jess  ez  shore  ez  in  the  last  great  day  thar'll  be 


THROUGH   THE   MOUNTAINS  AND  THE   NIGHT.         139 

some  \m  settin'  in  judgment  atween  him  tin'  me.  I 
wanted  him  ter  be  jess  ez  shore  about  me.  I  came 
out  in  phiin  sight,  and  drawed  his  attention.  He 
knowed  me  at  the  fust  glimpse,  an'  pulled  his  revol- 
ver. I  kivered  his  heart  with  the  sights  an'  tetcht 
the  trigger.  I'm  sorr}^  now  thet  I  didn't  shoot  him 
thru  the  belly,  so  thet  he'd  been  a  week  a-dyin'  an' 
every  minnit  he'd  remembered  what  he  wuz  killed 
fur.  But  I  wuz  so  afeered  thet  I  would  not  kill  him 
cf  I  hit  him  some  place  else'n  the  heart — thet's  a  way 
all  pizen  varmints  hev — thet  I  didn't  da'r  rcsk  hit. 
I  wuz  detarmined  ter  git  him,  too,  ef  I  had  ter  foller 
him  clean  ter  Cumberland  Ga})." 

"Ye  done  God's  vengeance,"  said  Aunt  Debby 
sternly.  "  An'  yit  hit  wuz  very  soon  ter  expect  hit." 
She  clasped  her  hantls  upon  her  forehead  and  rocked 
back  and  forth,  gazing  tixedly  into  the  mass  of  incan- 
descent coals. 

"  Hit's  gwine  to  chi'r  up  ter-morrow,"  said  Fort- 
ner,  returning  from  an  inspection  of  the  sky  at  the 
door.  "  Le's  potter  off  ter  bed,"  he  continued  rous- 
ing up  Harry.  They  removed  their  outer  garments 
and  crawled  into  one  of  the  comfortable  beds  in  the 
room. 

Later  in  the  night  a  shaip  pain  in  one  of  Harry's 
over-strained  legs  awoke  him  out  of  his  deep  slum- 
ber, for  a  few  minutes.  Aunt  Debby  was  still  seated 
before  the  fire  in  her  chair,  rocking  back  and  forth, 
and  singing  softly : 

"  Thy  saints  in  all  this  glorious  war, 
Shall  conquer  ere  they  die. 


140  Till':    RED    ACOUN. 

They  see  the  triumph  from  afar — 

By  f:iith  they  brina:  hit  nigh. 
Sure  I  must  sutler  ef  I  would  reign ; 

Increase  my  courage.  Lord. 
I'll  bear  the  toil,  endiu'e  the  pain. 

lie  went  to  sleep  ao^ain  with  the  sweet  strains 
rinfrinfr  in  his  ears,  as  if  in  some  way  a  part  of  the 
marvelous  happenings  of  that  most  eventful  day. 


AUNT   DEBBY    BRILL.  141 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AUNT      DEBBY      BRILL. 

Beneath  the  dark  waves  where  the  dead  go  down. 

There  are  gulfs  of  night  more  deep  ; 
But  little  they  care,  whom  the  waves  once  drown. 

How  far  from  the  light  they  sleep, 

And  dark  though  Sorrow's  fearful  billows  be. 

They  have  caverns  darker  still. 
O  Grod  !  that  Sorrow's  waves  were  like  the  sea. 

Whose  topmost  waters  kill. 

— Akoxymous. 

IT  was  nearly  noon  when  Harry  awoke.  The  awak- 
ening came  slowly  and  with  pain.  In  all  his 
previous  experiences  he  had  had  no  hint  even  of  such 
mental  and  l)odily  exhaustion  as  now  oppressed  him. 
Every  muscle  and  tendon  was  aching  a  bitter  com- 
plaint against  the  strain  it  had  been  subjected  to  the 
day  before.  Dull,  pulseless  pain  smoldered  in  some  ; 
in  others  it  was  the  keen  throb  of  the  toothache. 
Continued  lying  in  one  position  was  unendurable  ; 
changing  it,  a  thrill  of  anguish  ;  and  the  new  posture 
as  intoleral)le  as  the  tirst.  His  brain  galled  and 
twinged  as  did  his  botly.  To  think  was  as  acute  pain 
as  to  use  his  sinews.  Yet  he  could  not  help  thinking 
any  more  than  he  could  help  turning  in  bed,  though 
to  turn  was  torture. 

Every  organ  of  thought  was  bruised  and  sore. 
The  fearful  events  of  the  day  before  would  continue 
to  thrust  themselves  upon  his  mind.     To  put  them 


142  THK     KF.I)    ACORN. 

out  retjuired  p:iinfiil  effort  ;  to  recall  and  c()nii)rehend 
them  was  even  worse.  Reflectins;  upon  them  now, 
with  unstrung  nerves,  made  them  seem  a  huntired-fold 
more  terrible  than  when  they  were  the  spontaneous 
offspring  of  hot  blood.  With  the  reflection  came  the 
thoughts  that  this  was  but  a  prelude— an  introduction 
— to  an  intinitely  horrible  saturnalia  of  violence  and 
blood,  through  which  he  was  to  be  hurried  until 
released  by  his  own  destruction.  This  became  a  night- 
mare that  threatened  to  stagnate  the  blood  in  his  veins. 
He  gasped,  turned  his  back  to  the  wall  with  an  effort 
that  thrilled  him  with  pain,  and  opened  his  eyes. 

Naught  that  he  >a\v  reminded  him  of  the  preced- 
ing day.  Sunny  peace  and  contentment  reigned. 
The  door  stood  wide  open,  and  as  it  faced  the  south, 
the  noonday  sun  pusfied  in  —  clear  to  the  opposite 
wall  —  a  broad  band  of  mellow  light,  vividly  telling 
of  the  glory  he  was  shedding  where  roof  nor  shade 
checked  his  genial  glow.  On  the  smooth,  hard,  ashen 
floor,  in  the  center  of  this  bright  zone,  sat  a  matrf)nlv 
cat,  giving  with  tongue  and  paw  dainty  finishing 
touches  to  her  morning  toilet,  and  watching  with  ma- 
ternal pride  a  kittenish  game  of  hide-and-seek  on  the 
front  step.  Through  the  open  doorway  came  the 
self-complacent  cackling  of  hens,  celebrating  their 
latest  additions  to  their  nests,  and  the  exultant  call  of 
a  cock  to  his  feathered  harem  to  come,  admire  and 
partake  of  some  especially  fat  worm,  which  he  had 
just  unearthed.  Farther  away  speckled  Guinea  chick- 
ens were  clamoring  their  satisfaction  at  the  improve- 
ment in  the  weather.  Still  farther,  gentle  tinklings 
hinted  of  peacefully-browsing  sheep. 


AUNT    DKHBY    BRILL.  143 

Inside  the  house,  bunches  of  sweet-smelting  medi- 
cinal herbs,  hanging  against  the  walls  to  dry,  made 
the  air  heavy  with  their  odors.  Aunt  Debby  was  at 
work  near  the  bright  zone  of  sun-rays,  spinning  j^irn 
with  a  ''big  wheel."  She  held  in  one  hand  a  long, 
slender  roll  of  carded  wool,  and  in  the  other  a  short 
stick,  with  which  she  turned  the  wheel.  Setting  it  to 
whirling  with  a  long  sweep  of  the  stick  against  a 
spoke,  she  would  walk  backward  while  the  roll  was 
twisted  out  into  a  long,  thin  thread,  and  then  walk  for- 
ward as  the  yarn  was  wound  upon  the  spindle.  When 
she  walked  backward,  the  spindle  hummed  sharply  ; 
when  she  came  forward,  it  droned.  There  was  a 
stately  rhythm  in  both,  to  which  her  footsteps  and 
graceful  sway  of  body  kept  time,  and  all  blended  har- 
moniously with  the  camp-meeting  melody  she  was 
softly  singing : 

"Jesus,  I  my  cross  have  taken, 

All  to  leave  and  follow  Thee  ; 
Naked,  poor,  despised,  forsaken, 

Thou  from  honce  my  all  shalt  be. 
Perish  every  fond  ambition — 

All  I've  sought,  or  hoped,  or  known  ; 
Yet  how  rich  is  my  condition — 

God  and  Heaven  still  my  own." 

A  world  of  memories  of  a  joyous  past,  unflecked 
by  a  single  one  of  the  miseries  of  the  present,  crowded 
in  upon  Harry  on  the  wings  of  this  well-remembered 
tune.  It  was  a  favoritq  hymn  at  the  Methodist  church 
in  Sardis,  and  the  last  time  he  had.  heard  it  was  when 
he  had  accompanied  Rachel  to  the  church  to  attend 
services  conducted  by  a  noted  evangelist. 

Ah,  Rachel  !  —  what  of  her  ? 


144  THE    RED    ACORN. 

He  had  not  thought  of  her  «iuce  a  swift  recollec- 
tion of  her  words  at  the  parting  scene  on  the  piazza 
had  corae  to  spur  up  his  faltering  resolution,  as  the 
regiment  advanced  up  the  side  of  Wildcat.  Now  one 
bitter  thought  of  how  useless  all  that  he  had  gone 
through  with  the  day  before  was  to  rehabilitate  him- 
self in  her  good  opinion  was  speedily  chased  from  his 
mind  by  the  still  bitterer  one  of  the  contempt  she 
must  feel  for  him,  did  she  but  know  of  his  present 
abject  prostration. 

After  all,  might  not  the  occurrences  of  yesterday 
be  but  the  memories  of  a  nightmare  ?  They  seemed 
too  unreal  for  i)r()bability.  Perhaps  he  was  just  recov- 
ering consciousness  after  the  delirium  of  a  fever. 

The  walnut  sticks  in  the  fireplace  popped  as 
sharply  as  pistols,  and  he  trembled  from  head  to  foot. 

"Heavens,  Fm  a  "bigger  coward  than  ever,"  h*e 
said  bitterly,  and  turning  himself  painfully  in  bed.  he 
fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  wall.  '•  1  was  led  to  believe," 
he  continued,  "that  after  1  had  once  been  under  fire, 
I  would  cease  to  dread  it.  Now,  it  seems  to  me  more 
dreadful  than  I  ever  imagined  it  to  be." 

Aunt  Debby's  wheel  hummed  and  droned  still 
louder,  but  her  pleasant  tones  rode  on  the  cadences 
like  an  iEolian  haip  in  a  rising  wind : 

"  Man  may  trouble  and  distress  me, 

'T  will  but  drive  me  to  Thj'  breast ; 
Life  with  trials  hard  may  press  me  ; 

Heaven  will  brini;  me  sweeter  rest. 
O,  't  is  not  in  grief  to  harm  me, 

"WTiile  Thy  love  is  left  to  me. 
O,  't  were  not  in  joy  to  charm  me. 

Were  that  joy  unmixed  with  Thee." 


AUNT   DEBBY   BRILL.  145 

He  wondered  weakly  wh}^  there  were  no  monas- 
teries in  this  land  and  age,  to  serve  as  harbors  of  ref- 
wge  for  those  who  shrank  from  the  tearfulness  of  war. 

He  turned  over  again  wearily,  and  Aunt  Debby, 
looking  toward  him,  encountered  his  wide-open  eyes. 

"  Yer  awake,  air  ye?  "  she  said  kindly.  "Hope  I 
did  n't  disturb  you.  I  wuz  tryin'  ter  make  ez  little 
noise  ez  possible." 

"No,  you  didn't  rouse  me.  It's  hard  for  me  to 
sleep  in  daylight,  even  when  fatigued,  as  I  am." 

"  Ef  ye  want  ter  git  up  now,"  she  said,  stopping 
the  wheel  by  pressing  the  stick  against  a  spoke,  and 
laying  the  ''roll"  in  her  hand  upon  the  wheel-head, 
"I'll  hev  some  breakfast  fur  ye  in  a  jiffy.  Ye  kin 
rise  an'  dress  while  I  run  down  ter  the  spring  arter  a 
fresh  bucket  o'  water. " 

She  covered  her  head  with  a  "slat  sun-bonnet," 
which  she  took  from  a  peg  in  the  wall,  lifted  a  cedar 
watei-pail  from  a  shelf  supported  by  other  long  pegs, 
poured  its  contents  into  a  large  cast-iron  teakettle 
swinging  over  the  fire,  and  whisked  out  of  the  door. 
Presently  the  notes  of  her  hymn  mingled  in  plaintive 
harmony  with  the  sparkling  but  no  sweeter  song  of  a 
robin  redbreast,  twittering  his  delight  in  the  warm 
sunshine  amid  the  crimson  apples  of  the  tree  that 
overhung  the  spring. 

"Will  ye  hev  a  fresh  drink?"  she  asked  Harry, 
on  her  retura. 

He  took  the  gourdful  of  clear,  cool  water,  which 
she  offered  him,  and  drank  heartily. 

"Thet  hez  the  name  o'  bein'  the  best  spring  in 
these  parts,"  she  said,  pleased  with  his  appreciation. 
K  7 


Ht)  THE    RED   ACORN. 

"An'  hit's  a  never-fiiilin'  spring,  too.  WeVe 
plenty  o'  water  the  dryest  times,  when  everybody 
else's  goes  dry. " 

"That  is  delicious  water,"  said  Harry. 

"An'  now  I'll  git  ye  yer  breakfast  in  a  minnit. 
The  teakittle's  a-bilin',  the  coffee's  ground,  the  pone's 
done,  an'  when  I  fry  a  little  ham,  everything  will  be 
ready.'' 

As  her  culinary  methods  and  utensils  differed 
wholly  from  anything  Harry  had  ever  seen,  he  studied 
them  with  an  interest  sharpened  not  a  little  by  a 
growing  appetite  for  breakfast. 

The  clumsy  iron  teakettle  swung  on  a  hook  at  the 
end  of  a  chain  fastened  somewhere  in  the  throat  of 
the  rhinnu'V.  On  the  rough  stones  forming  the  hearth 
were  a  half-dozen  "ovens''  and  '•skillets" — circular, 
cast-iron  vessels  standing  on  legs,  high  enough  to  allow 
a  layer  of  live  coals  to  be  placed  beneath  them.  They 
were  covered  by  a  lid  with  a  ledge  around  it,  to  retain 
the  mass  of  coals  heaped  on  top.  The  cook's  scepter 
was  a  wooden  hook,  with  which  she  moved  the  ket 
ties  and  ovens  and  lifted  lids,  while  the  relentless  tire 
scorched  hor  arms  and  face  ruddier  than  a  cherry. 

It  was  a  primitive  way,  and  so  wasteful  of  wood 
that  it  required  a  tree  to  furnish  fuel  enough  to  pre- 
pare breakfast ;  but  under  the  hands  of  a  skillful 
woman  those  ovens  and  skillets  turned  out  viands 
with  a  flavor  that  no  modern  appliance  can  equal. 

The  joists  of  the  house  were  thickly  hung  with  the 
small  delicious  hams  of  the  country — hams  made  from 
young  and  tender  hogs,  which  had  lived  and  fattened 
upon  the  acorns,   fragrant   hickory-nuts   and   dainty 


AUNT   DEBBY   BRILL.  147 

beechnuts  of  the  abundant  "mast''  of  the  forest,  ^ntil 
they  were  saturated  with  their  delicate,  nutty  tlavor.* 
This  w^as  farther  enriched  by  a  piquancy  gained  from 
the  smoke  of  the  burning  hickory  and  oak,  with  which 
tliey  were  cured,  and  the  absorption  of  odors  from 
the  scented  herbs  in  the  rooms  where  they  were  dry- 
ing. Many  have  sung  the  praises  of  Kentucky's 
horses,  whisky  and  women,  but  no  poet  has  tuned  his 
lyre  to  the  more  fruitful  theme  of  Kentucky's  mast- 
fed,  smoke  cured,  herb  scented  hams.  For  such  a 
man  waits  a  crown  of  enduring  bays. 

Slices  of  this  savory  ham,  fried  in  a  skillet  —  the 
truth  of  history  forces  the  reluctant  confession  that 
the  march  of  progress  had  not  yet  brought  the  grid- 
iron and  its  virtues  to  the  mountains  —  a  hot  pome  of 
golden-yellow  meal,  whose  steaming  sweetness  had 
not  been  allowed  to  distill  of}',  but  had  been  forced 
back  into  the  loaf  by  the  hot  oven-lid  ;  coffee  as  black 
and  strong  as  the  virile  infusions  which  cheer  the  hearls 
of  the  true  believers  in  the  tents  of  the  Turk,  and 
cream  from  cows  that  cropped  the  odorous  and  juicy 
grasses  of  mountain  meadows,  made  a  l)reakfast  that 
could  not  have  been  more  appetizing  if  composed  hy 
a  French  c/ief,  and  garnished  by  a  polyglot  bill-of- 
f'are. 

Moved  thereto  by  the  hospitable  urgings  of  Aunt 
Debby,  and  his  own  appetite,  Harry  ate  heartily. 
Under  the  influence  of  the  comfortable  meal,  the 
cheerful  sunshine,  and  the  rousing  of  the  energies 
that  follow  a  change  from  a  recumbent  to  an  erect 
posture,  his  spirits  rose  to  a  manlier  pitch.  As  he 
could  not  walk  without  pain  he  took  his  seat  in  a 


148  TIIK    KKI)    WUllS. 

slat-bottomed  chair  bv  tlio  side  of  the  hearth,  and 
Aunt  IVl)hy,  knitting  in  hand,  ociupied  a  low  rocker 
nearly  opposite. 

"Where's  Mr.  Fortner?"  asked  Harry. 

*' Jim  got  up,  arly,  an'  arter  eatin'  a  snack  .said 
he'd  go  out  an'  take  a  look  aroinid — mebbe  he  mout 
go  ez  fur  ez  the  Ford." 

As  if  to  accompany  II;irry's  in^tiiu-livc  tremor 
over  the  possibilities  attending  the  resumption  ot 
Fortner's  prowling  aroimd  the  tlanks  of  ZoIIieotler's 
army,  the  fire  shot  oil'  a  whole  volley  of  sharp  little 
explosions. 

Harry  sprang  two  or  throe  inelies  above  his  chair, 
then  reddeneil  violently,  and  essayed  to  conceal  his 
confusion  by  assiduoijs  attention  with  the  poker  to 
the  wants  of  the  tire. 

Aunt  Debby  regarded  him  witii  gentle  compas- 
sion. 

'*  Yer  all  shuck  up  by  the  happenin's  yesterday," 
she  said  with  such  tactful  sympathy  that  his  sensi- 
tive mettle  was  not  offended.  ''  'Tis  nateral  ye  should 
be.  Hit's  allers  so.  Folks  kin  .say  what  they  please, 
but  fouten's  terril)le  tryin'  to  the  narves,  no  matter 
who  does  hit.  My  husband  wuz  in  the  Mexican  War, 
an'  he's  offen  tole  me  thet  fur  weeks  arter  the  battle 
o'  Bunor  Visty  he  couldn't  heah  a  twig  snap  wi th- 
ou ten  his  heart  poppin'  right  up  inter  his  mouth,  an' 
hit  wuz  so  with  everybody  else,  much  ez  they  tried 
ter  play  off  unconsarncd  like. '' 

"Ah,  really?"  said  Harry,  deeply  interested  in 
all  that  concerned  this  woman,  whose  remarkable 
qualities  were  impressing  themselves  upon  his  recog- 


AUNT   DEBBY   BKIIL.  149 

nition.  "^Vhat  part  of  tlie  army  did  your  husband 
belong  to  ! " 

'^Howuz  in  the  Kentucky  riiriinint  ooinnianded 
by  Kunncl  Ilonry  Clay,  son  o'  tlio  great  IlcnryClay, 
who  wuz  killed  thar.  My  liusband  was  promoted  to 
a  Leftenant  fur  his  brav'ry  in  the  battle. 

''Then  this  is  not  your  tirst  experience  with 
war?" 

"No,  indeed,"  said  she,  wilji  just  a  trace  of  pride 
swelling  in  the  temple's  delicate  network  of  blue 
veins.  "The  P^)rtners  an'  the  Brills  air  soljer  fami- 
lies, an'  ther  young  men  hev  shoiddered  ther  guns 
whenever  the  country  needed  fouten-men.  Great 
gran'fathers  Brill  an'  Fortner  come  inter  the  State 
along  with  Dan'I  Boone  nigh  outer  a  hundred  years 
ago,  and  sence  then  them  an'  ther  descendants  hev  lit 
Injuns,  Brittishers  an'  Mexikins  evr'y  time  an  ininiy 
raised  a  sword  agin  the  country." 
"  Many  of  them  lose  their  lives?  " 
"  Yes,  ev'ry  war  hez  cost  the  families  some  mem- 
ber. Gran'fathers  Brill  an'  Fortner  war  both  on  'em 
killed  at  the  Injun  ambush  at  Blue  Licks.  I  wuz 
on'y  a  bal)y  when  my  father  wuz  killed  at  the  massa- 
cre of  Winchester's  men  at  the  River  Raisin.     My 

brother " 

•'  Father  of  the  man  I  was  with  yesterday  ?  " 
"No;  Ills   father    wuz    my  oldest    brother.     My 
youngest  brother— the    'baby'   o'   the   family— wuz 
mortally  wounded  by  a  copper  ])all   in  the  charge  on 
the  Bishop's  Palace  at  the  takin'  o'  :\Ionterey." 

"  And  your  husband— he  went  through  t4ie  war 
safely,  did  he  ?  " 


150  THK    RED    ACORN. 

The  ploasant,  iiH)l)ilc  linos  iijion  tho  woman's  faco 
congoalc(l  into  stony  hardness.  At  the  moment  of 
Harry's  question  she  was  beuinnin*^  to  count  the 
stitches  in  her  work  for  some  feminine  mystery  of 
"  narrowins:  "  or  "'  tiirnini^."  She  slopjjed,  and  liands 
and  knittiuLT  (h-oppi>d  into  lier  lap. 

'•'■  My  hiisl)and,"  she  said  slowly  and  bitterly. 
'*  wuz  spared  by  the  Mcxikins  thet  he  tit,  but  not  by 
his  own  countrymen  an'  nei<:hb()rs.  alnonir-^t  whom 
lie  wuz  brung  up.  His  blcMxl  wuz  not  poure.l  out  on 
the  soil  he  invaded,  but  wuz  drunk  by  the  l.-md  his 
forefathers  an'  kinsmen  bed  died  fur.  The  irodless 
(Jreasers  on  the  Kii-r  Grande  war  kinder  ter  him  nor 
the  (1u'!f<ti<in  genth'men  on  the  Koekasse!."" 

The  intensity  and  bitterness  of  the  utterance  re- 
vealed a  long  conning  of  the  expression  of  bitter 
tnitli<. 

"  He  lost  his  life,  then,"  said  Harry,  partially  com- 
j)rehending,  '*  in  some  of  the  troubh's  around  here  ^  " 

"He  WW/,  killecl,  bekase  he  wouldn't  helj)  break 
down  what  hit  bed  cost  so  nnich  ter  build  up.  He 
wuz  killed,  bekase  he  thot  a  jwrc  man's  life  wuth  nio'en 
a  rich  man's  nigger.  He  wuz  killed,  beka.sc  he 
l)"li«ved  this  whole  country  belonged  ter  the  men 
who'd  tit  fur  hit  an'  made  hit  what  hit  is,  an'  thet  hit 
wuzn't  a  plantation  fur  a  i)assel  o'  slave  drivers  ter 
boss  an'  divide  up  jess  ez  hit  suited  'em." 

"  Why,  I  thought  all  you  Kentuckians  were 
-trongly  in  favor  of  keeping  the  negroes  in  slavery," 
-aid  Harry  in  amazement. 

"  Keepin  the  nigjrers  ez  .slaves  ain't  the  question 
at  all.     We  folks  air  ez   fur  from  b.-in'  Abolitionista 


AUNT   DEBliY   BUILL.  lol 

ez  ennybody.  Hit's  a  battle  now  witli  a  lot  uv  'risto- 
crats  who'd  take  our  rights  away." 

"I  don't  quite  understtmd  your  position,"  said 
Harry. 

"  Hit's  bekase  ye  don't  undor-^tand  the  country. 
The  people  down  heah  air  divided  into  three  classes. 
Fust  thar's  the  tew  ver}'  rich  tain'lics  thet  hev  bi«j 
farms  over  in  the  Blue  Grass  with  lots  o'  niggers  ter 
work  'em.  Then  thar's  the  middle  class — like  the 
Fortners  an'  the  Brills — thet  hev  small -farms  in  the 
creek  vallies,  an'  wharever  thar's  good  land  on  the 
mounting  sides  ;  who  hev  no  niggers,  an'  who  try  ter 
lead  God-fe.irin',  hard-workin'  lives,  an'  support  ther 
fam'lies  decently.  Lastly  thar's  the  pore  white 
trash,  thet  lives  'way  up  in  the  hollers  an'  on  the 
wuthless  lands  about  the  headwaters.  They've  little 
patches  o'  corn  ter  make  ther  bieadstufF,  an'  depend 
on  hunt  in',  fishin',  an'  stealin'  fur  the  rest  o'  ther  vit- 
tle.s.  They've  half-a-dozen  guns  in  ever}'  ca])in,  but 
nary  a  hoe  ;  they've  more  yaller  dogs  then  the  rest 
o'  us  hev  sheep,  an'  they  tind  hit  a  good  deal  handier 
ter  kill  other  folks's  hogs  than  ter  raise  ther  own 
pork." 

"Hardly  desirable  neighbors,  I  should  think," 
venture<l  Harry. 

'•  Hit's  war  all  the  time  between  our  kind  o'  peo- 
ple, and  them  other  kinds.  Both  on  'em  hates  us 
like  pizen,  an'  on  our  side — well,  Ave  air  Christians, 
but  we  recken  thet  when  Christ  tole  us  ter  love  our 
inimies,  an'  do  good  ter  them  cz  despitefully  used  us, 
he  couldn't  hev  bed  no  idee  how  mean  people  would 
git  ter  be  long  arter  he  left  the  airth." 


152  THE    RED    ACORN. 

Harry  could  not  help  smiling  at  this  new  adapta- 
tion of  a  Scriptural  mandate. 

"The  low-down  whites  hates  us  bekase  we  ain't 
mean  an'  ornery  cz  they  air,  an'  hold  ourselves  above 
'em.  The  big-l)ags  hates  us  bekase  we  won't  knuckle 
down  ter  'em,  cz  ther  niggers  an'  the  pore  whites  do. 
So  hit's  cat-an'-dog  all  the  time.  We  don't  belong  ter 
the  same  parties,  we  don't  jine  the  same  churches,  an' 
thar's  more  or  less  trouble  a-gwine  on  batween  us  an' 
them  continnerly." 

"  Then  when  the  war  broke  out  you  took  differ- 
ent sides  as  usual  ?  " 

"  Of  course  !  of  course!  The  l)ig  nigger-owners 
an'  the  ornery  whites  who  air  jest  ez  much  ther  slaves 
ez  ef  they'd  been  bot  an'  paid  fur  with  ther  own 
money,  became  red-hot  Secessioners,  while  our  peo- 
ple stuck  ter  the  Union.  '  The  very  old  Satan  his^'lf 
seemed  ter  take  possession  ov  'em,  and  stir  'em  np 
ter  do  all  manner  o'  cruelty  ter  conquer  us  inter  jinin' 
in  with  'em.  The  Brills  an'  Fortncrs  hed  allers  been 
leaders  agin  the  other  people,  an'  now  the  Rebels 
hissed  their  white  slaves  outer  our  men,  ez  one  sets 
dogs  outer  steers  in  the  corn.  The  chief  man  among 
'em  wuz  Kunnel  Bill  Pemiington." 

Harry  looked  up  with  a  start. 

"Yes,  the  same  one  who  got  his  reward  yester- 
day," she  continued,  interpreting  the  expression  of 
of  his  eyes.  "  The  Penningtons  air  the  richest  fam- 
ily this  side  o'  Danville.  They  an'  the  Brills  an' 
Fortners  hev  allers  been  mortal  enemies.  Thar's 
bin  blood  shed  in  ev'ry  gineration.  Kunnel  Bill's 
father  limpt  ter  his  grave  on  'count  of  a  bullet  in  his 


AUNT   DEBBY   BRILL.  153 

hip,  which  wuz  lodged  thar  soon  arter  I'd  flmicr  on 
the  floor  a  ten  dollar  gold  piece  he\l  crowded  inter 
my  hand  at  a  dance,  where  he'd  come  'ithout  ary  in- 
vite.    The  bullet  wuz  from  the  rifle  ov  a  young  man 
named  David  Brill,  thet  I  married   the  next  day,  jest 
ez   he  wuz   startin'   fur  Mexico.     He  volunteered   a 
little  airlier  then  he'd  intended,  fur  his  father\s  wheat 
wuz  not  nearly  all  harvested,  but  hit  wuz  thot  best 
ter  git  himself  out  o'  the  way  o'  the  Penningtons, 
who  wuz  a  mouty  revengeful  family,  an'  besides  they 
then  hed  the  law  on  ther  side.     Ez  soon  ez  he  come 
back  from  the  war  Ole  Kunnel  Bill,  an'  Young  Kun- 
nel  Bill,  an'  all  the  rest  o'  the  Pennington  clan  an' 
connection  begun  watchin'  fur  a  chance  ter  git  even 
with  him.     The  Ole   Kunnel  used   ter  vow  an'  swar 
thet  he'd  never  leave  the  airth  ontil  Dave  Brill  wuz 
under  the  clods  o'  the  valley.     But  he  hed  ter  iro  last 
year,  spite  o'  hisself,  an'  leave  David  Brill  'live  an' 
well  an'  becomin'  more  an'  more  lookt  up  ter  cv'rv 
day  by  the  people,  while  the  Penningtons  war  gittin' 
wuss  and  wuss  hated.     We  hed  a  son,  too,  th^very 
apple  of  our  eyes,  who  wuz  growin'  up  jest  like  his 
father " 

The  quaver  of  an  ill-repressed  sob  blun-ed  her 
tones.  She  closed  her  eyes  firmly,  as  if  to  choke 
l)ack  the  brimming  tears,  and  then  rising  from  her 
seat,  busied  herself  brushing  the  coals  and  ashes  back 
into  the  fire. 

"Thet  walnut  pops  so  awfully,"  she  said,  "thet 
a  body  hez  to  sweep  nearly  ev'ry  minnit  ter  keep  the 
harth  at  all  clean." 

"The  death  of  his  father  made  no  change  in  the 


15-i  THE    RED   ACOK.V. 

3'ounger  Col.  Pennington  ?  He  kopt  up  the  quarrol 
the  same  as  ever,  did  he?"  asked  Ilarrv,  deeply  in- 
terested in  the  narrative. 

"  Wussen  ever  !  Wussen  ever  !  He  got  bitterer 
ev'ry  day.  He  hiid  liis  defeat  when  he  wuz  riiii- 
nin'  fur  the  Legislatur  at  our  door.  He  hired  hulii(>s 
ter  git  inter  a  quarrel  with  David,  at  public  gethcr- 
in's,  an'  kill  him  in  sech  a  way  ez  ter  hev  a  plea  o' 
self-defense  ter  cla'r  themselves  on,  but  David  tuck 
too  good  keer  o'  hisself  ter  git  ketched  that  a-w.iy. 
an'  he  hurt  one  o'  the  bullies  so  bad  thet  he  niver 
quite  got  over  hit.  He  an'  Kunnel  Pennington  lev- 
eled ther  weepons  on  each  other  at  a  barbecue  near 
London  last  Fall,  but  the  byst:uiders  interfered,  an' 
prevented  bloodshed  fur  a  time." 

"  When  the  war  broke  out,  we  never  believed  hit 
would  reach  us.  Thar  mout  be  trouble  in  Louisville 
:ind  Cincinnati  — some  even  thought  hit  likely  that 
thar  would  be  foutcn' in  I^'.xington  —  but  way  up  in 
the  mountings  wcM  be  peaceable  an'  safe  allers.  (h\v 
young  men  formed  theirselves  inter  a  company  o' 
Home  Gyards,  an'  elected  my  husband  their  Capting. 
Kunnel  Pennington  gathered  together  'bout  a  hundred 
o'  the  poorest,  orneriest  shakes  on  the  headwaters,  an' 
tuck  them  oft*  ter  jine  Sidney  Johnson,  an'  ch-ive  the 
Yankees  'way  from  Louisville.  Everybody  said  hit 
wuz  the  best  riddance  o'  bad  rubbish  the  country  'd 
ever  knowed,  and  when  they  wuz  gone  our  chances 
fur  peace  seemed  better 'n  ever. 

"All  the  flurry  made  by  ther  gwine  'way  hed  died 
down,  an'  ez  we  heered  nothin'  from  'era,  or  the  war, 


AUNT   DEBBY   BRILL.  155 

people's  niincls  got  quiet  ag'in,  an'  they  sot  'bout  hur- 
ryin'  up  their  Spring  work. 

''One  bright,  sweet  mornin'  in  jNIay,  I  wuz  at  my 
Avork  in  the  yard  with  Fortner  —  thet  wuz  my  son's 
name  —  tixin'  up  the  kittles  ter  dye  .some  3'ain  fur  a 
coat  fur  him.  Husband  'd  went  ter  the  other  side  o' 
the  hill,  whar  the  new  terbacker  ground  wuz,  ter  cut 
(Hit  some  trees  that  shaded  the  plants.  Tiie  skies  wuz 
ez  bright  an'  fa'r  ez  the  good  Lord  ever  tnade  'cul  I 
could  heah  the  ringin'  o'  David's  ax,  ez  he  chopped 
away,  an'  hit  seemed  ter  l)e  sayin'  ter  me  cheerfully 
all  the  time  :  '  Heah  I  am — hard  at  work.'  Tiie  smoke 
from  some  brush-piles  thet  he'd  sot  afire  riz  up  slowly 
an'  gently,  fur  thar  wuz  no  wind  a-stirring.  The 
birds  sung  gayly  'bout  their  work  o'  nest-buildin\  an' 
I  couldn't  help  singin'  about  mine.  I  left  the  kittles 
fur  a  minnit  ter  run  down  the  gyarden  walk,  ter  see 
how  my  bed  o'  pinks  wuz  comin'  out,  an'  I  sung 
ez  I  run. 

"Jest  then  a  passel  o'  men  come  stringin'  up  the 
road  ter  the  bars.  They  looked  like  some  o'  them 
thet  Kunnel  Pennington  tuck  'way  with  him,  but  they 
rid  better  critters  then  any  o'  them  ever  hed,  an'  they 
were  dressed  in  a  sorter  soljer-cloze,  an'  all  o'  'em 
toted  guns. 

"  Something  sent  a  chill  ter  my  very  heart  the  mo- 
ment I  laid  e\'es  on  'em.  Hit  a'most  stopped  beatin' 
when  I  see  Kunnel  Bill  Pennington  a  little  ways  be- 
hind 'em,  with  a  feather  in  his  hat,  an'  sword  an' 
pistols  in  his  belt.  "When  they  waited  at  the  bars  fur  him 
ter  come  up,  I  knowed  instantly  what  they  were  arter. 


156  THE    RED    ACORN. 

"  'Fortiier/  I  said  ter  ni}'  son,  trvin"*  tor  speak  cz 
low  cz  possible;  '  Fortner,  honey,  slip  back  tlirouirh 
the  bushes  cz  quick  ez  the  Lord  '11  let  ye,  an  tell  yer 
daddy  thet  Bill  IVnninirton  an'  his  franij  air  heah  arter 
him.  Sneak  away,  but  when  ye  air  out  o'  siirht,  run 
fur  yer  life,  honey.' 

"Ho  turned  tor  go,  but  at  that  niinnil  Bill  Pen- 
nington shouted  out : 

"  '  Stop  thar  !  Don't  ye  send  thet  boy  away  !  Ef 
he  moves  a  stop.  I'll  i)ut  a  bullet  throuirh  his  brain  !  ' 
Fortner  would  *ve  run  in  spite  o'  him.  but  I  wuz  so 
skeered  fur  him  thet  I  jumped  ter  his  side  an'  kctched 
his  arm. 

"  '  K('(>p  (juict,  honey.'  I  >aid.  *  Likely  they  won't 
tind  yer  daddy  at  all.' 

"Vain  hope  I  Kz  I  spoke,  the  sound  o'  David's  a.\ 
rung  out  clearly  and  steadily.  The  cannons  at  Wild- 
cat, yesterday,  didn't  sound  no  louder  ter  mo.  I  could 
even  tell  thet  he  wuz  choppin'  a  beech  tree.  The 
licks  was  oz  a-sharp  an'  ringin'  ez  ef  the  ax  struck  iron. 

"Bill  Pennington  lit  offen  liis  beast,  an'  walked 
toward  me,  with  his  sword  a  clatterin'  an'  his  spurs  u- 
jinglin'. 

'"Whar's  that  Yankeefied  scalawag  of  a  husband 
o'  your'n  ?     Whar's  Dave  Brill  ( '  he  said  savagely. 

"Hit  seemed  ter  me  thet  every  stroke  from  over  the 
hill  said  ez  plainly  ez  tongue  could  utter  words  :  '  Heah 
lam.  Come  over  heah! '  I  tried  ter  gain  time  ter 
think  o'  something. 

"  'He  started  this  mornin'  on  Roan  ^loUy  for  Mt. 
Venion,  to  'tend  court,'  I  said,  knowiu'  thet  I  didn't 
dare  hesitate  ter  make  up  a  story. 


AUNT   DERBY    HRILL.  157 

"Kunnel,  thet  air's  a  lie,'  said  Jake  Johnson,  who 
knowed  us,  '  Thar's  Dave  Brill's  Roan  Molly  over 
thar,  in  the  pasture.' 

"  An'  this  hain't  coui't-day  in  Mt.  Vernon,  neither/ 
said  another. 

"  'I  know  your  husband's  on  the  place.  I  wuz 
tole  so  this  mornin','  said  Kunnel  Bill.  'Hit '11  be 
much  better  fur  ye,  ef  ye  tell  me  whar  he  is.  Hit  '11 
at  least  save  yer  house  from  bcin'  sot  afire.' 

"Rino^!  rini? !  went  David's  ax,  ez  ef  hit  war  a 
trumpet,  shoutin'  ter  the  whole  world  :  '  Hcah  I  am. 
Come  over  heah  ! ' 

"  'Ye  kin  burn  our  house  ef  yer  thet  big  a  villain,' 
I  said  ;  '  but  I  can't  tell  ye  no  different.' 

"'Kunnel,  thet's  him  a-choppin'  over  thar,'  said 
Jake  Johnson.  '  I  know  he's  cl'ared  some  new  ground 
fur  terbackcr  on  thet  air  hill-side.' 

"'I  believe  hit  is,'  said  Kunnol  Bill,  listenin'  a 
minnit,  'Parker,  yean'  Haygood  go  over  thar  an' 
git  him,  while  some  o'  the  rest  o'  ye  look  'bout  the 
stable  an'  fodder-stack  thar.  Mind  my  orders,  an' 
see  thet  they  air  carried  out. ' 

"His  manner  made  me  fear  everything.  A  thought 
flashed  inter  my  mind.  Thar  wuz  thet  horn  thar." — 
Harry  followed  her  eyes  with  his,  and  saw  hanging 
on  hooks  against  the  wall  one  of  the  long  tin  horns, 
used  in  the  South  to  call  the  men-folks  of  the  farms  to 
their  meals.  It  was  crushed  and  battered  to  useless- 
ness. — "I  thought  I'd  blow  hit  an'  attract  his  atten- 
tion. He  mout  then  see  them  a  comin'  an'  git  away. 
I  ran  inter  the  house  an'  snatched  the  horn  down, 
but  afore   I   could    put   hit   ter  my  lips,  Bill  Pen- 


158  TIM-:    RED    ACOltX. 

nington  jerked  hit  'way  from  nu\  an'  stamped  on 
hit. 

"  '  Deb  Brill,'  said  he,  with  a  mortally  liati't'ul  look, 
'  ver  peart  an'  sassy  an'  hold,  an'  hev  allcrs  heen  so, 
an'  so  's  yer  Yankeetied  hu>hand.  Ye'vc  hed  yer  own 
way  ofl'en — too  otfen.  Now  I'll  iiev  mine,  an'  wipe 
out  some  lon«r-stan<lin'  scores.  Davo  l^rill  hv/.  eappt'd 
a  lifetime  o'  |>lairiK'  an'  distiirhaner  t(  r  lii«.  hcttcrs,  hy 
Ix'comin'  a  traitor  to  his  country,  an*  indiu-in'  others 
ter  he  traitors.  He  must  he  quieted.  Come  out  an' 
listrn.' 

'•  He  pulltMl  mr  out  inter  the  yard.  D.ivr  wuz  still 
choppin'  away.  F'ur  nearly  every  day  fin  niLdi  thirty 
years,  the  .soun«l  o'  his  ax  hed  heen  music  in  my  ear.'*. 
I  had  larned  to  know  hit,  even  afore  we  wuz  lovers, 
fur  his  father's  land  jinrd  my  father's,  an'  liit  seems 
ter  me  thet  I  could  tell  the  note  o'  his  ax  from  thet  o' 
everybody  else,  a'most  ez  airly  ez  I  could  tell  a  rob- 
in's sons:  from  a  blackbird's.  Girl,  woman,  wife  an' 
mother,  I  hed  listened  to  hit  while  I  knit,  wove,  or 
spun,  every  stroke  minirliiv  with  the  sounds  o'  my 
wheel  or  loom  an'  the  sonir  o'  the  birds,  an'  tcllin'  me 
whar  he  wuz,  an'  thet  he  wuz  toilin'  cheerfully  tur  me 
an'  mine. 

'*  Now,  fur  the  fust  time  in  all  these  years,  hits 
steady  stroni^  beat  ])rought  mis'r}'  ter  my  ears.  Hit 
wiiz  ez  the  toilin'  of  bell  fur  some  one  not  yit  dead. 
My  heart  o'ny  beat  ez  fast  ez  he  chopped.  Hit  would 
give  a  great  jump  when  the  sound  o'  the  blow  reached 
me,  an'  then  stand  still  until  the  next  one  came. 

"At  last  came  a  long  —  O,  so  long  pause. 

"  'They've  got  thar,'  said  Bill  Pennington,  cranin' 


AUNT    DKBHY    BRILL.  159 

forward  his  bead  ter  ketch  the  fust  sound.  '  He's 
seed  'em,  an'  is  tryin'  ter  git  'way.  But  he  kin  never 
do  hit.     I  know  the  men  I  sent  ter  do  the  job." 

''Two  ritie  shots  sounded  a'most  together,  an'  then 
immediately  arter  wuz  a  couple  o'  boastful  Injun-like 
yells. 

"  'Thar,  Deb,  heah  thet  i  Ye'r  a  widder  now.  Bo 
thankful  thet  I  let  ye  oti'  so  easy.  I  ought  by  rights 
ter  l)urn  yer  house,  an'  put  thet  boy  o'  your'n  wliar 
he'll  do  no  harm  But  this'll  do  fur  an'  example  ter 
these  mounting  traitors.  They've  lost  ther  leader,  an' 
ther  hain't  no  one  ter  take  his  place.  They'll  know 
now  thet  we're  in  dead  airnest.  Boys,  go  inter  the 
house  an'  crit  all  the  guns  thar  is  thar,  an'  what  vittles 
an'  blankets  ye  want ;  but  make  haste,  fur  we  must 
git  away  from  heah  in  a  hurry.' 

"  I  run  ez  fast  ez  my  feet'd  cai'ry  me  to  whar 
David  lay  stone  dead.  Fortner  saddled  his  colt  an' 
galloped  otf  ter  his  cousin  Jim  Fortner's,  ter  rouse 
the  Home  Gyard.  The  colt  reached  Jim's  house,  bc- 
kase  hits  mammy  wuz  thar ;  but  my  son  never  did. 
In  takin'  the  siiortest  road,  he  bed  ter  cross  the  dan- 
gerousest  ford  on  the  Kockassel.  The  young  beast 
wuz  skeered  nigh  ter  death,  an'  hits  rider  wuz 
drowned." 


160  THE    UED    ACORN. 


CHAPTER   Xin. 


This  kind  o'  Mjerin'  ain't  a  mite  like  onr  October  tratnln', 

A  chap  could  clear  rigbl  oat  from  tbcre,  cf  li  only  looked  like  ralnln'; 

And  the  Cunneln.  loo,  could  klrer  up  their  •liappo«ii  with  handanncra, 

An'  send  the  Inilnes  nkoutln*  to  the  barroom,  with  their  hanncn, 

(Fear  u'Klttln'  un  'em  •putted.)  an'  a  feller  could  cry  quarter 

Ef  he  Ored  away  hi*  ramrod  arter  tu  much  rum  an'  water. 

— JaM«»  KlKSILL  Lo\«-KLL. 

rj^IIK  inoininL'  iiftcr  llio  Imttlc,  Kt'iit  Kthvards  was 
-L  strollinir  .'iround  tlio  cnni])  at  Wildcat.  '*  Sliadcs 
of  my  hot  throated  ancestors  who  swallowed  several 
fine  farms  by  the  tunTl)lerfiil,  liow  thirsty  I  am  !"  he 
said  at  lencrth.  ''It's  no  wonder  these  Kentuckians 
are  such  hard  drinkers.  There's  soniethinfr  in  the 
atinospluM-e  that  makes  me  drier  the  fartlu-r  we  ad- 
vance into  the  State.  Maybe  the  pursuit  of  jrhny 
has  somethins:  desiccatinir  in  it.  At  least,  all  the  war- 
riors I  ever  heard  of  seemed  composed  of  cla}'  that 
required  as  much  moistenin*^  a-s  unslaked  lime.  I  will 
hie  me  to  the  hill  of  frankincense  and  the  mountain 
of  myrrh ;  in  other  wonls,  I'll  po  back  where  Abe  is, 
and  ir<*t  what's  left  in  the  canteen." 

He  found  his  saturnine  comrade  sittin*!  on  a  log 
by  a  comfortable  fire,  restoring  buttons  which,  like 
soldiers,  had  become  ''missing  b}'  reason  of  exigen- 
cies of  the  campaign." 

The  temptation  to  believe  that  inanimate  matter 


AN  APPLE  JACK  RAID.  161 

can  be  actuated  by  obstinate  malice  is  almost  irresist- 
ible when  one  has  to  do  with  the  long  skeins  of  black 
thread  which  the  soldiers  use  for  their  sewing.  These 
skeins  resolve  themselves,  upon  the  pulling  of  the 
first  thread,  into  bunches  of  entanglement  more  hope- 
lessly perverse  than  the  Gordian  knot,  or  the  snarls  in 
a  child's  hair.  To  the  inexperienced  victim,  desirous 
of  securing  the  wherewithal  to  sew  a  button  on,  nothing 
seems  easier  than  to  pull  a  thread  out  of  the  bunch  of 
loose  filament  that  lies  before  him.  Rash  man  !  Tliat 
simple  mesh  hatii  a  baffling  ])()wer  like  unto  theLahy- 
rinth  of  Arsin"',  and  long  labor  of  fingers  and  teelli, 
aided  by  heated  and  improper  language,  fre(iuenlly 
fails  to  extract  so  much  as  a  half  foot  of  thread. 

Abe  had  stuck  his  needle  down  into  the  log  beside 
him  Near,  were  the  buttons  he  had  fished  out  of  his 
pocket,  and  he  was  laboring  with  clumsy  fingers  and 
rising  temper  at  an  obdurate  bun«'h  of  thread. 

"I've  been  round  looking  over  the  field,"  said 
Kent,  as  he  came  up. 

A  contemptuous  snort  answered  him. 

"  You  ought  to've  been  along.  I  saw  a  great 
many  interesting  things." 

"  O,  yes.  I  s'po.se.  Awful  interesting.  Lot  o' 
dead  men  hiying  around  in  the  mud.  'Bout  as  inter- 
esting. I  .should  say,  as  a  .spell  o'  setting  on  a  Coron- 
er's jury.  The  things  you  find  interesting  would 
bore  anybody'  else  to  death." 

Abe  gave  the  obstinate  clump  a  savage  twitch, 
which  only  made  its  knots  more  rebellious,  and  he 
looked  as  if  strongly  tempted  to  throw  it  into  the 
tire. 

L  7* 


162  THE    RED    AOORN. 

"Don't  do  it,  Alx',"  said  Kont,  with  a  laugh  that 
irritated  Abe  worse  still.  'Thread's  thread,  out 
here,  H  hundred  miles  from  nowhere.  You  don't 
know  where  you'll  get  any  more.  Save  it — my  dear 
fellow — save  it.  Perchance  you  may  yet  sweetly  be- 
guile many  an  hour  of  your  elegant  leisure  in  unrav- 
eling its  fantastic  convolutions  with  your  taper  lingers, 
and " 

"  Lord  I  Lord  !  "  said  Al)e  with  an  expression  of 
deep  weariness,  but  without  l(M)king  in  Kent'>  direc- 
tion "  who's  pulled  the  string  o'  that  clack-mill  and 
set  it  to  going  i  ^^'hon  it  gets  started  once  it  rolls 
out  big  wonls  like  punkins  dropping  out  o'  the  tail 
of  a  wagon  going  up  hill.  And  there's  no  way  o' 
stopping  it,  either.  You've  just  got  to  wait  till  it 
runs  down." 

"The  Proverbs  .say  so  littingly  that  '  A  fool  de- 
lighteth  not  in  wise  instruction,*"  sjiid  Kent,  as  he 
stepped  around  to  the  other  side  of  the  fire.  His  foot 
fell  upon  a  projecting  twig,  the  other  end  of  which 
flew  up  and  landed  a  very  hot  coal  on  the  back  of 
Alx''s  hand.  Abe's  action  followed  that  of  the  twig. 
in  the  suddenness  of  his  upspringing.  He  imrled  an 
oath  and  a  firebrand  at  his  comrade. 

"This  is  really  becoming  domestic,"  said  Kent  as 
he  laughingly  dodged.  "The  gentle  amenities  could 
not  cluster  more  thickly  around  our  fireside,  even  if 
we  were  married." 

When  Abe  resumed  his  seat  he  did  not  come  down 
exactly  upon  the  spot  from  which  he  had  arisen.  It 
was  a  little  farther  to  the  right,  where  he  had  .-tuck 
the  needle.     He  had  tori:otten  all  about  it,  but  he 


AX  APPLE  JACK  RAID.  163 

rose  with  a  howl  when  it  keenly  rciiiindod  him  that 
like  the  star-spangled  banner,  it  "was  still  there."" 

"  Don't  rise  on  my  aceount,  I  beg,"  said  Kent 
with  a  deprecatory  wave  of  the  hand,  as  he  hurried 
off  to  where  he  could  laugh  with  safety.  A  saucy 
drummer-boy,  who  neglected  this  precaution,  re- 
ceived a  cuff  from  Abe's  heavy  hand  that  thrilled  the 
rest  of  the  drum-corps  with  delight. 

When  Abe's  wrath  sub^idecl  from  this  ebullient 
stage  back  to  its  customary  one  of  simmer,  Kent  ven- 
tured to  return. 

"  Say,"  said  he.  pulling  over  the  coats  and  blankets 
near  the  fire,  "  where's  that  canteen  ?  " 

"Tiiere  it  is  by  the  cups.  Can't  you  see  it?  If 
it  was  a  snake  it'd  bite  you." 

"  It's  done  that  already,  several  times,  or  rather 
its  contents  have.  You  know  what  the  lVil)le  says, 
'  Riteth  like  a  .serpent  and  stingeth  like  an  adder  ?  ' 
Ah,  here  it  is.  But  gloomy  forebodings  .seize  me  : 
it  is  su.spiciously  light.  Parado.xically,  its  lightness 
induces  gravity  in  me.  Hut  that  pun  is  entirely  too 
fine-drawn  for  camp  atmosphere." 

He  shook  the  canteen  near  his  ear.  ''Alas!  no 
gurgle  responds  to  my  fond  caresses — 

Canteen,  Mavourneen,  O,  why  art  thou  silent, 
Thou  voice  of  my  heart? 

It  is — woe  is  me — it  is  empty." 

"Of  course  it  is — you  were  the  last  one  at  it." 
"I  hurl  that  foul  imputation  back  into  thy  teeth, 

base  knave.     Thou  thyself  art  a  very  daughter  of  a 

horse-leech  with  a  canteen  of  whisky." 


164  THE    KKI)    .V'OKN. 

Abe  looked  at  him  inquiringly.  ''You  mu^^tVe 
found  .some,  some  place,"  he  said,  "or  you  wouldn't 
be  .so  awful  glib.  It\s  taken  'bout  half-a-pint  to 
loosen  your  tongue  so  that  it'd  run  this  way.  I  know 
you." 

"No,  I've  not  found  a  spoonful.  The  eloquence 
of  thii-st  is  the  only  inspiration  I  have  at  present.  I 
fain  would  stay  its  cravings  by  (piaffing  a  beaker  of 
mountain-distilled  hair-curler.  Mayhap  this  humble 
receptacle  contains  yet  a  few  drops  which  escaped  thy 
ravenous  thirst." 

Kent  turned  the  (•ant«'en  upside  down.  an<l  place<| 
its  mouth  upon  iii-  tongue.  "No,"  1h>  said,  with 
deep  dejection,  "all  that  delicious  lluid  of  yesterday, 
is  now  like  the  Father  of  his  Country." 

"  Eh  i  "  .said  Abe,  puzzled. 

"  Hecause  it  is  no  more  —it  is  no  more.  It  be- 
longs to  the  unreturning  pa>t." 

"  I  say,"  he  continued  after  a  moment's  pause. 
"  let's  go  out  and  hunt  for  some.  There  nmst  be 
plenty  in  this  neighborhood.  Nature  never  makes  a 
want  without  providing  .something  to  supply  it. 
Therefore,  judging  from  my  thirst,  tiiis  comitry  ought 
to  be  full  of  distilleries." 

They  buckled  on  their  i)elt.s.  picked  up  their  guns 
and  started  out,  directing  their  .steps  to  the  front. 

In  spite  of  the  sunshine  the  walk  through  the  bat- 
tle-field was  (lepressing.  A  chafing  wind  fretted 
through  the  naked  limbs  of  the  oaks  and  che>tnuts, 
and  drew  moans  from  the  pines  and  the  hemlocks. 
The  brown,  dead  leaves  rustled  into  little  tawny 
hillocks,    behind   protecting  logs  and    rocks.      Fre- 


AN  APPLE  JACK  RAID.  165 

quently  these  took  on  the  shape  of  long,  narrow 
mounds  as  if  they  covered  the  graves  of  some  ill- 
fated  l)eing.  who  like  themselves,  had  fallen  to  the 
earth  to  rot  in  dull  ol)scurit y.  The  clear  little  streams 
tiiat  in  Sunnner-tinu'  murmured  musically  down  the 
slopes,  under  can()})ies  of  nodding  roses  and  fragrant 
sweet-hrier,  were  now  turbid  torrents,  brawling  like 
churls  drunken  with  nnich  wine,  and  tearing  out  with 
savage  wantonness  their  banks,  matted  with  the  roots 
of  the  blue  violets,  and  the  white-tlowered  puccoon. 

Scattered  over  the  mountain-side  were  fatigue- 
parties  engaged  in  hunting  uj)  the  dead,  and  burying 
them  in  slialiow  graves,  hastily  dug  in  clay  so  red 
that  it  seemed  as  if  saturated  with  the  blood  shetl  the 
day  before.  The  buriers  thrust  their  hands  into  the 
pockets  of  the  dead  with  the  flinching,  jiauseated  air 
of  men  touching  tilth,  and  took  from  the  garments 
seeping  with  water  and  l)lo()d,  watches,  letters,  ani- 
brotypes,  money  and  trinkets,  some  of  which  they 
studied  to  gain  a  clue  to  the  dead  man's  identity, 
some  retained  as  souvenirs,  but  threw  the  most  back 
into  the  grave  with  an  air  of  loathing.  The  faces  of 
the  dead  with  their  staring  eyes  and  open  mouths  and 
long,  lank  hair,  cloyed  with  the  sand  and  nuid  thrown 
up  i)y  the  beating  rain,  looked  indescribal)ly  repul- 
sive. 

The  buriers  found  it  better  to  begin  their  work  by 
covering  the  features  witli  a  cap  or  a  broad  brinuned 
hat.  It  was  difficult  for  the  coarsest  of  them  to  fling 
a  .spadeful  of  dank  clay  directl}-  upon  the  wide-open 
eyes  and  seemingly-speaking  mouth. 

"Those  fellows' souls,"  said  Kent,  regardini;  tlie 


166  Tni:  kkd  acorn. 

coipses,  "  seem  to  have  left  their  earthly  houses  in 
sueli  haste  that  they  forgot  to  close  the  doors  and 
windows  after  them.  Somewhere  I  have  read  of  a 
.superstition  that  bodily  tenements  left  in  this  way 
were  liable  to  be  entered  and  <»ecu{)ied  by  evil  spirits, 
and  from  thi<  rose  the  eustom  of  piously  closiiii:  the 
eyes  and  moullis  of  deceased  friends." 

'"Nowoi-se  spirit's  likely  to  get  into  them  than 
was  shot  out  of  'em,"  growled  Abe  *'  A  Kebel  w  ith 
a  gun  is  as  bad  an  evil  spirit  as  I  everexju'ct  to  meet. 
But  let's  go  on.  It's  another  kind  of  an  evil  spirit 
that  we  are  interested  in  just  now — one  that'll  enter 
into  an<l  occupy  our  em|)ty  canteen." 

''You're  right.  It's  the  enemy  that  my  friend 
Shakspere  says  we  *  put  into  our  m«>uths  to  steal 
away  our  l)rains.'  By  the  way,  what  a  weary  hunt 
lie  must  have  in  your  cranium  for  a  load  worth  steal- 
ing." 

"There  goes  that  clack-mill  again.  Great Ctesar  I 
if  the  boys  only  had  legs  as  active  a.s  your  tongue 
what  a  racer  the  regiment  would  Iw  I  Cavalry 'd  be 
nowhere." 

Toward  the  foot  of  the  mountain  their  path  led 
them  across  a  noi.sy,  swollen  little  creek,  whose  over- 
sowing waters  were  dyed  deeply  red  and  yellow  by 
the  load  of  hill  clay  they  were  carrying  awa}'  in  their 
headlong  haste.  A  little  to  the  left  lay  a  corpse  of 
more  striking  appearance  than  any  they  had  ^et  seen. 
It  was  that  of  a  tall,  slender,  gi'acefully  formed  young 
man,  clad  in  an  officer's  uniform  of  rich  gray  cloth, 
lavishly  ornamented  with  gilt  buttons  and  gold  lace. 
The  features  were  strouir.  but  delicatelv  cut,  and  the 


AN    APPLE   JACK    RAID.  167 

(lark  skin  smooth  and  fine  textured.  One  shapely 
hand  still  clasped  the  hilt  of  a  richly  ornamented 
sword,  with  which  he  had  evidently  been  directing 
his  men,  and  his  staring  gray  eyes  seemed  yet  filled 
with  the  anger  of  battle.  A  bullet  had  reached  him 
as  he  stood  upon  a  little  knoll,  striving  to  stay  the 
headlong  flight.  Falling  backward  his  head  touched 
the  edge  of  the  swift  running  water,  which  was  now 
tilling  his  long,  black  locks  with  slimy  sediment. 

'^The  ounce  o'l<>ad  that  done  that  piece  o'  work," 
said  Abe,  '"  was  better'n  a  horseload  o'  gold.  A  few 
more  used  with  as  good  judgment  would  bring  the 
rebellion  to  an  end  in  short  meter." 

"Yes,"  answered  Kent,  "he's  one  of  the  Chiv- 
alry ;  one  of  the  main  props  ;  one  of  the  fellows  who 
are  trying  to  bring  about  Secession  in  the  hopes  of 
being  Dukes,  or  Marquises,  or  Earls — High  Keepers 
of  Ilis  Majesty  Jetf.  Davis's  China  Spittoons,  or 
(irand  Custodians  of  the  Prince  of  South  Carolina's 
IMug  Tol)acco,  when  the  Southern  ('onfederac}-  gains 
its  independence." 

'•  Well,"  said  Abe,  raising  the  Rebel's  hat  on  the 
point  of  his  bayonet,  and  laying  it  across  the  corpse's 
face,  "•  he's  changed  bosses  much  sooner  than  he  ex- 
pected. JeflJ".  Davis's  blood-relation,  who  presides 
over  the  Sulphur  Confederacy,  will  j)ut  on  his  shoul- 
der-straps with  a  branding-iron,  and  serve  up  his 
rations  for  him  red-hot.  I  only  wish  he  had  more 
going  along  with  him  to  keep  him  company." 

"  Save  your  feelings  against  the  Secessionists  for 
expression  with  your  gun  in  the  next  fight,  and  come 
I'long.     I'm  getting  thirstier  every  minute." 


168  THK    KKD    ACORN. 

Thoy  walked  on  rapidly  for  a  couple  or  three 
hours,  without  tinding  much  ciicourageiiient  in  tlicir 
search.  The  rugged  mountain  sides  were  hut  thinly 
peoi)led,  and  the^  few  poor  cabins  they  saw  in  the  ths- 
tance  they  decided  were  not  promising  enough  of 
results  to  justify  clamhering  up  to  where  they  were 
perched.  At  la.st,  almo>t  wearied  out,  tiiey  halted 
for  a  little  while  to  rest  and  scan  the  interminahle 
waves  of  summits  that  stretched  out  U'tore  tln-m. 

''Ah/  said  Kent,  rising  suddenly,  "let's  go  on. 
Hopo  dawns  at  last.  I  .-^mell  apples.  That's  a  i>er- 
fiune  my  nose  never  mistakes.  We're  near  an  or- 
chard. Where  there's  an  orchard  there's  likrly  to 
be  a  pretty  good  style  of  a  house,  and  where  in  Ken- 
tucky there's  a  good  style  of  a  house  there's  a  likeli- 
hood of  being  plenty  of  goo<l  whisky.  Now  there's 
a  train  of  brilliant  indintive  reasoning  that  shows 
that  nature  intended  me  to  1k»  a  great  natural  philos- 
opher.    Come  on,  Abo."" 

The  smell  of  apples  certainly  did  grow  more  pal- 
pable as  they  proc«'eded,  and  Abe  nuittered  that  even 
if  they  did  not  get  any  thing  to  drink  they  would 
probably  get  enough  of  the  fruit  to  make  an  agree- 
alile  change  in  their  diet. 

They  emerged  from  the  woods  into  a  cleared  space 
where  a  number  of  roads  and  paths  focused.  To  the 
right  was  a  little  opening  in  the  mountain-side,  hardly 
large  enough  to  be  called  a  valley,  but  designated  in 
the  language  of  the  region  as  a  ''hollow."  At  its 
mouth  stood  a  couple  of  diminutive  log-cabins,  of  the 
rudest  possible  con-strnction.  and  I'oofed  with  ''claj> 
Iwards"  hcKl  in  plac«-  by  stones  and  poles.     A  long 


AN    APPLK    JACK    IIAID.  169 

siring  of  wooden  troughs,  supported  upon  props,  con- 
ducted the  water  from  an  elevated  spring  to  the  roof 
of  one  of  the  cabins,  and  the  water  could  be  seen 
issuing  again  from  underneath  the  logs  at  one  side  of 
the  cal)in.  A  very  primitive  cider  mill — two  wooden 
rollers  fastened  in  a  frame,  and  moved  by  a  long  sap- 
ling sweep  attached  to  one  of  them — stood  near.  The 
ground  was  covered  with  rotting  apple  pomace,  from 
which  arose  the  odor  that  had  reached  Kent's  nc)st>. 

"Hello!"  said  the  latter,  "here's  luck;  here's 
richness  !  We've  succeeded  beyond  our  most  sanguine 
expectations,  as  the  boy  said,  who  ran  away  from 
school  to  catch  minnows,  and  caught  a  ducking,  a  bad 
cold  ixnd  a  licking.  We've  struck  an  apple-jack  dis- 
tillery, and  as  they've  been  at  work  lately,  they've 
])robably  left  enough  somewhere  to  give  us  all  that 
we  can  drink." 

Abe's  sigh  was  ehxpient  of  a  disbelief  that  such  a 
consunnnation  was  j)ossible,  short  of  the  blissful  here- 
after. 

Inside  of  one  of  the  cabins  they  touiid  a  still  nboiit 
the  size  of  ti  tub,  with  a  worm  of  similar  >m.ill  pro 
portions,  kept  cool  by  the  flow  from  the  spring. 
Some  tubs  and  barrels,  in  which  the  lees  of  cider 
were  rapidly  turning  to  vinegar,  gave  off  a  fruity, 
spirituous  odor,  but  for  awhile  their  eager  search  did 
not  discover  a  bit  of  the  distilled  product.  At  last, 
Kent,  with  a  cry  of  triumph,  dragged  from  a  place  of 
cunning  concealment  a  small  jug,  stopped  with  a  corn- 
cob,    lie  smelled  it  hungrily. 

•'  Yes,  here  is  some.     It's  apple-jack,  not  a  week 
old,  and  as  rank  as  a  Maj(n-  General.     Phew!     I  can* 
8 


170  TlIK    HKI)    ACOKN'. 

siiicll  every  stick  they  hiirned  to  distil  it.  Abe,  watch 
me  closely  while  I  drink.  I  luaLnianimonsly  take  the 
lead,  out  of  consideration  for  you.  If  1  ain't  dead  in 
five  minult!s,  you  try  it." 

'*(),  stop  nionki'yini:,  and  drink."  wa<  the  impa- 
tient an.-wer. 

Kent  put  tin*  Jiiir  to  ins  mouth  and  took  a  lonir 
drau«;ht.  "  Shade  of  old  Fatiier  Noah,  tiie  Hr>t 
tlrunkard,"  he  said  as  he  wiped  th»'  t«'ars  from  his 
eyes,  "  another  swip  like  that  woulil  pull  out  all  the 
rivets  in  my  internal  pipinirs.  Heavens  I  it  went 
down  like  pulling  a  eat  out  o(  i\  hole  hy  the  tail.  Vm 
afraid  to  wip«'  my  mouth,  lest  my  l)n  alh  l)urn  a  hole 
in  the  sleeve  of  my  hloiise." 

Three-ipiarters  of  nn  hour  later,  the  spirits  in  the 
juu  were  lowerin<?  and  those  in  the  men  risin*;  with 
unetpial  rapitlity.  L'nder  the  influence  of  the  ticry 
stimulant,  Kent's  sjmiruine  temp<'rament  Imiled  .and 
huhhied  over.  Imairination  jiainted  the  j)resent  and 
future  in  hues  of  dazzlinfj  radi.inee.  KverythiiiL'  was 
as  delijrhtful  as  it  could  be  now,  and  would  become 
more  channing  as  time  rolled  on.  But  with  Al>c 
lV)lton  drinkiniT  tended  to  develop  moroseness  into 
.savagi'ry. 

"  Ah,  comfort  me  with  apple-jack,  and  stay  me 
with  rtaiions  of  it,"  .said  Kent  Kdwards,  settin*:  down 
the  juir  with  the  circums|>ection  of  a  man  not  yet  too 
drunk  to  suspect  that  he  is  losin^r  exact  control  of  his 
less  and  arms.  "That  gets  l^etter  the  deejier  down 
you  pro.  First  it  was  like  swallowing  a  chestnut  bur ; 
now,  old  baud-made  Bourlxju  couldn't  Ixj  smoother.'' 


AN  APPLE  JACK  RAID.  171 

"A  man  can  get  used  to  a'most  anything,"  said 
Bolton. 

''  I  get  gladder  every  day,  AIh',  that  I  came  into 
the  army.  I  woulihrt  liave  missed  all  this  experience 
for  the  tinest  farm  in  the  Miami  Valley. 

'  'T  were  worth  ten  yt'ftrs  of  peaceful  life, 
To  soKliiT  half  a  day.' 

Sir  Walter  Scott  says — as  I  improve  him."" 

'•'Specially  one  of  them  soaking  days  when  we 
were  marching  through  the  nnid  to  Wildcat." 

*'  O,  those  were  just  thrown  in  to  make  us  appre- 
ciate good  weather  when  we  have  it.  Otherwise  we 
wouldn't.     You  know  what  Ihe  song  says  : 

'  For  Spring  would  be  but  gloomy  weather, 
If  we  had  nothing  el.se  but  Spring.'  " 

"Well,  for  n)y  part,  one  o'  them  days  was  enough 
to  p'i>on  six  months  o'  sunshine.  I  declare,  J  htliovt' 
I'll  feel  mildewed  for  the  rest  of  my  life.  1  know  if 
I  pulled  ofl'  my  cU)thes  you  could  .scrape  the  green 
mold  otf  of  my  back.'' 

'•  And  I'm  sure  that  if  we'd  had  the  whole  army  to 
pick  from,  we  couldn't  've  got  in  with  a  better  lot  of 
boys  and  ofHcers.  Every  one  of  them  \s  true  blue, 
and  a  man  all  the  way  through.  It's  the  best  regi- 
ment in  the  army,  and  our  company's  the  best  comi)a- 
ny  in  the  regiment,  and  I  flatter  myself  the  company 
has  n't  got  two  other  as  good  men  us  we  are." 

"  Your  modesty  '11  ruin  you  yet,  Kent,"  said  Abe, 
sardonically.     "It's  very  painful  to  see  a  man  going 


172  THF.    RED    ACORN. 

'ioiiikI  nndorratinir  liinisolf,  as  you  do.  If  I  could 
only  got  you  to  liavo  a  propcM-  opinion  of  yourself — 
that  is,  believe  tliat  you  are  a  bipirer  man  tban  General 
Scott  or  George  H.  McClelian.  I'd  iiave  some  hopes 
of  you."' 

'•  We'll  have  one  grand,  big  battle  with  the  Seces- 
sionists now,  pretty  soon  everything's  getting  ripe 
for  it— and  we'll  whij)  them  like  WcIlinLrton  whijjped 
.\ajx)leon  at  Waterloo.  Our  regiment  will  cover  it.self 
with  glory,  in  which  you  and  I  will  have  a  big  shan*. 
Then  we'll  march  back  to  Sardis  with  flags  flying  and 
drums  beating,  everylxxly  turning  out,  and  the  bands 
l)laying  '  See,  the  Concjuering  Hero  Comes.'  when  you 
and  I  come  down  the  stnM't,  and  we'll  be  heroes  for 
the  rest  of  our  natural  livt-s." 

"Go  ahead,  and  trll  the  rest  of  it  to  the  mash-tub^ 
and  tli<>  -till.  I've heanhas  much  as  I  can  stand,  and  I 
must  have  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  I'm  going  into  the 
other  cabin,  to  see  what  's  thore." 

Kent  t'ollowiMl  him  to  the  door,  with  tiie  Juir  in  his 
hand. 

"Kent,  there's  a  man  coming  down  that  path 
there,"  .said  Abe.  pulling  himself  together,  after  the 
manner  of  a  halfnlrunken  man  whose  attention  la  pow- 
erfully attracted. 

"Where?"  a.sked  Kent,  .setting  the  jug  down 
with  .solicitous  gentleness,  and  reaching  back  for  his 
musket. 

"There,  by  that  big  chestnut.  Can't  you  .see 
him  {  or  have  you  got  so  much  whisky  in  you,  that 
you  can't  see  anything  ?  lie's  in  Rebel  clothes,  and 
he's  got  a  gun.     I'm  going  to  shoot  him." 


AN    APPLK    .TACK    RAID.  173 

**  Maybe  he's  one  of  these  loyal  Kentuckians. 
Hold  on  a  minute,  till  you  are  sure,"  said  Kent,  half 
cockinir  his  own  gun. 

"The  last  words  of  General  Washinixton  were 
'  Never,  trust  a  nigger  with  a  gun/  A  man  witli  that 
kind  o'  cloze  has  no  business  carrying  weapons  around 
in  this  country.     I'm  going  to  shoot." 

"If  you  shoot  with  your  hands  wobbling  lliat 
way,  you'll  make  him  as  full  of  holes  as  a  skimmer. 
That  'd  be  cruel.  Steady  yourself  up  a  little,  while  I 
talk  to  him. 

'•  Halt,  tliere  I  "  comiuandtMl  Kent,  with  a  lliick 
tongue.  "Who  are  you,  and  how  many  are  with 
you  (  " 

"  Tm  a  rnioii  man,"  said  Fortner,  for  it  was  he, 
"an'  I'm  alone." 

"  Lay  down  your  gun  and  come  uj)  here,  if  you 
are  a  friend,"  ordered  Kent. 

The  swaggering  impcriousness  in  Ivlwards's  lone 
nettled  Fortner  as  much  as  the  order  itself.  "  I  don't 
make  a  practice  of  layin'  down  my  gun  fur  no 
man,"  he  said  proudly.  "I'm  ez  good  Union  ez  ary 
of  you  'uns  dar  be,  an'  I  don't  take  no  orders  from  ye. 
I  could've  killed  ye  both,  ef  I'd  a-wanted  ter,  afore  3'e 
ever  seed  me." 

Bolton's  gun  cracked,  and  the  Ixdlei  })nried  itself 
in  the  thick,  soft  bark  of  the  chestnut,  just  above 
Fortner's  head,  and  threw  dust  and  chips  in  his  eyes. 
He  bru>^hed  them  away  angrily,  and  instinctively 
raised  his  rifle.  Kent  took  this  as  his  cue  to  fire,  but 
his  aim  was  even  worse  than  A])e's. 

"Ruined    again    by    strong   drink,"  Ik;   muttered 


1  (4  TIIF-     REP    \roHN. 

despairin«rly,  as  he  saw  \\\o  failure  of  hi-  shot. 
"  Xotliinix  l)iit  now  apph^jack  could  make  inc  miss  so 
fair  a  mark." 

*'  Now,  yo  tVlh'is,  hiy  down  //">/>'  «nins  !  "  shouted 
Fortnor,  sprinirin;,'  forward  to  wlioro  tliey  .vcre.  with 
his  ritle  co('k«'d.  '*  Lay 'om  down  I  I  say.  Lay  '»in 
down,  or  I'll  let  tlayliillit  throiiLrh  y<' !  " 

"  Ilf 's  jjot  us,  A I K'."  said  Kent,  layini/  down  his 
musket  reluctantly.  Ills  example  was  followe<l  hy 
Abe.  who,  however,  did  not  place  his  irun  so  far  that 
he  couM  not  readily  pick  it  up  aL'ain,  if  Fortner  «rave 
him  an  instant's  opportunity.  Fortner  noticed  this, 
and  pu.shed  the  musket  farther  away  with  his  foot, 
.<till  covering  the  two  with  \\h  rifle. 

"Ye  sec  now,"  he  said,  **thet  I  hev  ye  at  my 
marcy,  ef  I  wanted  ti'i;  kill  or  captun'  ye.  Kf  I  «:in 
ye  hack  yer  jjuns,  ye'll  a«lmit  thet  Fm  ycr  fri<*nd,  and 
not  y<M-  inimy.  won't  y<>  f " 

'•  It  '11  certainly  look  like  an  overture  to  a  perma- 
niMit  and  disintei*ested  friendship,"  said  Kent,  hright- 
cninir  up  ;  and  Alx",  who  was  gatherinir  himself  up 
for  a  spring  to  catch  Fortner's  rifle,  let  his  nniscles 
rcia.x  again. 

••Well,  ye  kin  take  up  yer  guns  agin  and  load 
cm."  said  Fortner,  letting  down  the  hammer  of  his 
ritle.  •'  I'm  Jim  Fortner.  supposed  ter  be  the  pizen- 
est  Union  man  on  the  Rocka-ssel  I  Come  along  ter 
my  house,  an'  I'll  gin  ye  a  good  meal  o'  vittels.  Hit's 
on'y  a  little  piece  off,  an'  I  've  got  thar  one  of  yer 
fellers.     His  name  's  Harry  Glen. 


Df    THE    HOSPITAL-  175 


CHAPTER     XIV. 

IN    THE    HOSPITAL. 

Am  the  tall  uhlp  wIiom  lofty  prora 
Slull  never  (tern  the  blUowa  mora 
Deserted  by  her  Ksllant  band. 
Amid  the  breakers  lies  ast rand- 
Bo  on  hl»  couch  lay  Khud.rlck  Dhn. 
And  oft  his  fevered  limbs  ho  threw 
In  toss  abrupt,  as  when  hi^r  sides 
Lie  rcK.-kln){  In  the  advnnchiK  tide*. 
That  shake  lier  frame  with  ceaseless  beat, 
Vet  c  n  not  heave  her  from  her  seat ; — 
O,  how  unlike  her  cours*'  on  sea! 
Or  his  free  step  on  hill  and  lea!— i>idy  if  the  Lakt. 

AN  Army  Hospital  is  tiio  vestibule  of  the  Ceme- 
tery— the  anteroom  where  the  reeruiting-agents 
of  Death — Wounds  and  Disease  —  assemble  their  con- 
scripts to  prepare  them  for  the  ranks  from  which  there 
is  neither  desertion  nor  discharge.  Therein  enter 
those  who  are  to  lay  aside  "this  muddy  vesture  of 
decay,"  for  the  changeless  garb  of  the  Beyond. 
Thither  troop  the  Wasted  and  Stricken  to  rest  a  little, 
and  prepare  for  the  last  great  journey,  the  lirst  mile- 
stone of  which  is  placed  over  their  heads. 

Humanity  and  Science  have  done  much  for  the 
Army  Hospital,  but  still  its  swinging  doors  wave 
two  to  the  tomb  wliere  they  return  one  to  health  and 
activity. 

It  was  a  broiling  hot  day  when  Rachel  Bond 
descended  from  the  ambulance  which  had  brought 
her  from  the  station  to  camp. 


17^1  THE     RKD    ACORN. 

She  shielded  her  eyes  with  a  palm-leaf  fan,  and 
surveyed  the  surroundings  of  the  post  of  duty  to 
which  she  had  been  assi«xnod.  She  found  herself  in 
a  little  city  of  r()U<j:ii  plank  hainuks.  arranired  in  troo- 
nu'trically  correct  streets  and  anirlcs  alxmt  a  jrreal 
plain  of  a  parade  ^.fround,  from  which  tlic  heat  radi- 
ated as  from  a  irlowini^  stove.  A  flag  dro()j)ed  as  if 
wilted  from  thr  top  of  a  tall  pole  standing  on  the 
side  of  the  parade-ground  opposite  her.  Languidly 
pacing  in  front  of  the  Colonel's  tent  was  an  Orderly, 
who  had  l)een  seh'ctcd  in  the  morning  for  his  spruce 
neatne-^s,  hut  who  now  looked  like  some  enormous 
l)luc  vegetahle.  rapidly  witliering  imder  tlie  sim's 
blistering  rays. 

I^n'ontl  were  tiie  barracks,  baking  and  sweltering, 
cracking  their  rough,  unpainted  sides  into  yawning 
fi.s.sures.  and  tilling  the  smotheriniz  air  with  resinous 
odors  distilled  from  the  fat  knots  in  the  refuse  plank- 
ing of  which  they  were  built.  Heyond  these  was  the 
line  of  campguards — bright  gun  barrels  and  bayo- 
nets glistening  painfully,  and  tho.se  who  bore  them 
walking  wjth  as  weary  .slowness  as  was  consistent 
with  any  motion  whatever,  along  their  boMts. 

On  straw  in  the  oven-like  barracks,  and  under  the 
few  trct's  in  the  camp-ground,  lay  the  flushed  and 
panting  soldiers,  waiting  wearily  for  that  relief  which 
the  descending  sun  would  bring. 

Tlie  hospital  to  which  Riichel  had  been  brought 
differed  from  the  rest  of  the  sheds  in  the  camp  by 
being  whitewa.shed  within  and  without,  which  made 
it  radiate  a  still  more  unendurable  heat  than  its 
duller-lustered  companions.     A  powerful  odor  of  chlo- 


IN    THE    HOSPITAL.  177 

ride  of  lime  and  carbolic  acid  shocked  her  sensi- 
tive nostrils  with  their  tales  of  all  the  lepulsiveness 
those  disinfectants  were  intended  todcistroy  or  hide. 

Several  dejected,  hollow-eyed  convalescents,  whose 
uniforms  hung  about  their  wasted  bodies  as  they 
would  about  wooden  crosses,  sat  on  benches  in 
the  scanty  shade  by  one  side  of  the  building,  and 
fanned  themselves  weakly  with  fans  clumsily  fash- 
ioned from  old  newspapers  They  looked  up  as  the 
trim,  lady-like  figure  stei)ped  lightly  down  from  the 
ambulance,  and  the  long-absent  luster  returned  brieti}' 
to  their  sad  eyes. 

"That  looks  like  home,  Jim,"  said  one  of  the 
fever-wasted, 

"  That  it  does.  Lord  !  she  looks  as  fresh  and  sweet 
as  the  Johnny -jumi>-ups  down  by  our  old  spring-house. 
I  expect  she's  come  down  hero  to  find  somebody  that 
belongs  to  her  that's  sick.  Don't  I  wish  it  was 
me  I  " 

"I  wouldn't  mind  being  a  brother,  or  a  cousin, 
or  a  sweetheart  to  her  myself.  That'd  be  better  luck 
than  to  be  given  a  sutler-shop.  Just  see  her  move  ! 
She's  got  a  purtier  gait  than  our  thorougbred  colt." 

"It  does  one's  eyes  good  to  look  at  her.  It  makes 
me  feel  better  than  a  cart-load  of  the  stuft'  that  old 
Pillbags  forces  down  our  throats." 

"  You're  a-talking.  She's  a  lad}' — every  inch  of 
her — genuine,  simon-pure,  fast  colors,  all-wool,  a 
yard  wide,  as  fine  as  silk,  and  bright  as  a  May  morn- 
ing." 

"And  as  wholesome  as  Spring  sunshine." 

All  unconscious  that  her  appearance  was  to  the 
M 


178  THE    RED    ACORN. 

invalids  who  looked  upon  her  like  a  sweet,  health- 
giving  breeze  bursting  through  a  tainted  atmosphere, 
Rachel  passed  wearily  along  the  burning  Avalks  to- 
ward the  Surgeon's  office,  with  a  growing  heart- 
sickness  at  the  unwelcome  appearance  of  the  task  she 
had  elected  for  herself. 

The  journey  had  been  full  of  irritating  discom- 
forts. Heat,  dust,  and  soiled  linen  are  only  annoy- 
ances to  a  man  ;  they  are  real  miseries  to  a  woman. 
The  marvel  is  not  that  ,Toan  of  Arc  dared  the  perils 
of  battle,  but  that  she  endured  the  continued  wretch- 
edness of  camp  uncleanliness,  to  the  triumphant 
end. 

With  her  throat  parched,  garments  "sticky," 
hair,  eyes,  ears  and  nostrils  filled  with  irritating  dust, 
and  a  feeling  that  collar  and  cufis  were,  as  ladies 
phrase  it,  "a  sight  to  behold,"  Rachel's  heroic  enthu- 
siasm ebbed  to  the  bottom.  Ushered  into  the  Sur- 
geon's office  she  was  presented  to  a  red-faced,  harsh- 
eyed  man,  past  the  middle  age,  who  neither  rose  nor 
apologized  to  her  for  being  discovered  in  the  undress 
of  a  hot  day.  He  motioned  her  to  a  seat  with  the 
wave  of  the  fan  he  was  vigorously  using,  and  taking 
her  letter  of  introduction,  adjusted  eye-giasses  upon 
a  ripe-colored  nose,  and  read  it  with  a  scowl  that  rip- 
pled his  face  with  furrows. 

"So  you're  the  first  of  the  women  nurses  that's  to 
be  assigned  to  me,"  he  said  ungraciously,  after  finish- 
ing the  letter,  and  scanning  her  severely  for  a  mo- 
ment over  the  top  of  his  glasses.  "  I  suppose  I  have 
to  have  'em." 

The   manner   hurt   Rachel   even   more   than   tho 


IN   THE    HOSPITAL.  179 

words.     Before  she  could  frame  a  reply  he  contin- 
ued: 

"I  don't  take  much  stock  in  this  idea  of  women 
nurses,  especially  when  they're  young  and  pretty." 
He  scowled  at  Rachel  as  if  she  had  committed  a 
crime  in  being  young  and  beautiful.  "But  the  coun- 
try's full  of  women  with  a  Quixotic  notion  of  being- 
Florence  Nightingales,  and  they've  badgered  the 
Government  into  accepting  their  services.  I  suppose 
I'll  have  to  take  my  share  of  them.     Ever  nursed  ?  " 

''  No,  sir,"  responded  Rachel,  compressing  as  much 
haughtiness  as  possible  into  the  answer. 

'*  Of  course  not.  Girls  at  your  age  are  not  at  all 
likely  to  know  anything  that  is  useful,  and  least  of  all 
how  to  nurse  a  sick  man.  I  hardly  know  which  is 
the  worst,  a  young  one  who  don't  know  anything,  or 
a  middle-aged  one  who  thinks  she  knows  it  all,  and 
continually  interferes  with  the  management  of  a  case. 
I  believe  though,  I'd  rather  have  had  the  middle-aged 
one  to  start  with.  She'd  be  more  likely  to  tend  to  her 
business,  and  not  have  her  head  turned  by  the  atten- 
tions of  the  good-looking  young  officers  who  swarm 
around  her.     Mind,  I'll  not  allow  any  flirting  here." 

Rachel's  face  crimsoned.  "  You  forget  yourself," 
she  said,  cuttingly;  "or  perhaps  you  have  nothing 
to  forget.  At  least,  make  an  effort  to  remember  that 
I'm  a  lady  " 

The  bristly  eyebrows  straightened  down  to  a  level 
line  over  the  small  blue  eyes,  and  unpleasant  furrows 
drew  themselves  around  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 
"  You  forget,"  he  said,  "  that  if  you  enter  upon  these 
duties  you  are  in  the  military  service  and  subject  to 


180  THE    RED    ACORN. 

your  superior  officers.  You  forget  the  necessity  of 
the  most  rigid  discipline,  and  that  it  is  my  duty  to 
explain  and  enforce  this.'' 

"I  certainly  expect  to  ohvy  orders,"  said  Rachel,  a 
little  overawed. 

"You  may  rightly  expect  to,"  he  answered  with 
a  slight  sneer  ;  "  because  it  will  be  a  matter  of  neces- 
sity— you  will  have  to.  "We  must  have  instant  and 
unquestioning  obedience  to  orders  here,  as  well  as 
everywhere  else  in  the  Army,  or  it  would  be  like  a 
rope  of  sand — of  no  strength  whatever — no  strength, 
whatever." 

"I  know  it,"  answered  Rachel,  depressed  even 
more  by  the  apparition  of  martial  law  than  she  had 
been  before  by  the  heat. 

'"And  what  I  have  been  telling  you  is  only  the 
beginning,"  continued  the  Surgeon,  noting  the  effect 
of  his  words,  and  exulting  in  their  humbling  power. 
"The  cornerstone  of  everything  military  is  obedi- 
ence— prompt,  unfailing  obedience,  b}'  everybody, 
soldier  or  officer,  to  his  superiors.     Without  it " 

"  Major  Moxon,"  said  an  officer,  entering  and  sa- 
luting, "  the  General  presents  his  com})linients,  and 
desires  to  know  why  his  repeated  orders  in  regard  to 
the  furloughing  of  men  have  been  so  persistently  dis- 
regarded." 

"Because,"  said  the  Surgeon,  getting  pui-plish- 
red  about  the  cheeks  and  nose,  "because  the  matter's 
one  which  I  consider  outside  of  his  province — beyond 
his  control,  sir.  I  am  Chief  of  the  Medical  Depart- 
ment, as  you  are  perhaps  aware,  sir." 

"We  presumed  that  you  were  taking  that  view  of 


IN   THE   HOSPITAL.  181 

the  matter,  from  your  course,"  answered  the  Aide 
cahnly.  "  I  am  not  here  to  argue  the  matter  with 
you,  but  simply  to  direct  you  to  consider  yourself 
under  arrest.  Charges  arc  being  prepared  against 
you,  to  which  I  will  add  specifications  based  on  this 
interview.  Good  afternoon,  sir."  The  Aide  saluted 
stiffly  and  moved  away,  leaving  the  Surgeon  in  a 
state  of  collapse  at  the  prospect  of  what  he  had 
brought  upon  himself  by  his  injudicious  contumacy. 
Miss  Rachel  was  in  that  state  of  wonderment  that 
comes  to  pupils  at  seeing  their  teachers  rc])el  against 
their  own  precepts.  The  Surgeon  was  too  much  en- 
grossed in  his  own  affairs  to  pay  farther  heed  to  her. 
He  tapped  a  bell. 

"Orderly,"  he  said,  to  the  soldier  who  responded, 
"conduct  this  young  woman  to  Dr.  Denslow.  In- 
form him  that  she  is  to  be  with  us  as  a  nurse,  and 
ask  him  to  be  kind  enough  to  assign  her  suitable 
quarters.     Good  afternoon,  ma'am." 

In  another  office,  much  smaller  and  far  less  luxu- 
riously furnished,  she  found  Dr.  Denslow,  a  hazel- 
eyed,  brown-bearded  man  of  thirty,  whose  shoulder- 
straps  bore  the  modest  bars  of  a  Captain.  The 
reader  has  already  made  his  acquaintance.  He  re- 
ceived her  with  the  pleasant,  manly  sympathy  for  her 
sex,  which  had  already  made  him  one  of  the  most  pop- 
ular of  family  physicians  in  the  city  where  he  was 
practicing  at  the  outl^reak  of  the  war. 

Rachel's  depressed  spirits  rose  again  at  his  cordial 
reception. 

"I  am  so  busy,"  he  said,  after  a  brief  exchange  of 
commonplaces,  "that  I'll  not  have  the  time  to  give 


182  THE    RED    ACORN. 

you  much  information  thir?  afternoon  as  to  your  duties, 
and  I  know  that  you  are  so  fatigued  with  your  jour- 
ne}^  and  tlie  heat  that  you  will  not  care  to  do  any- 
thing but  rest  and  refresh  yourself.  I  will  therefore 
show  you  immediately  to  your  quarters." 

"This  will  be  your  field  of  labor,"  he  said,  as  he 
led  her  down  the  long  aisle  between  rows  of  cots  to- 
ward her  room.  "It's  not  a  cheerful  one  to  contem- 
plate at  first.  Human  suffering  is  always  a  depressing 
spectacle,  and  you  will  see  here  more  of  it  and  more 
varied  agony  than  you  can  find  anywhere  outside  of 
an  army  hospital's  walls.  But  as  the  deed  is  so  is  the 
duty,  and  the  glory  of  doing  it.  To  one  who  wants 
to  serve  God  and  his  fellow-creatures — which  I  take 
it  is  the  highest  form  of  religion — here  is  an  oppor- 
tunity that  he  may  bless  God  for  giving  him.  Here 
he  can  earn  a  brighter  cn-own  than  is  given  them  who 
die  at  the  stake  for  o})ini()n's  sake." 

So  earnest  was  his  enthusiasm  that  Rachel  felt  her- 
self lifted  up  by  it,  in  spite  of  her  discomforts.  But 
then  she  turned  her  eyes  away  from  his  impassioned 
face,  and  looked  over  the  array  of  white  beds,  each 
with  its  pale  and  haggard  occupant,  his  eyes  blazing 
with  the  delirium  of  fever,  or  closed  in  the  langor 
of  exhaustion,  with  limbs  tossing  as  the  febrile  fire 
seethed  the  blood,  or  quivering  with  the  last  agonies. 
Groans,  prayers,  and  not  a  few  oaths  fell  on  her  ears. 
The  repulsive  smell  of  the  disinfectants,  the  nausea- 
ting odor  of  the  sick  room  where  hundreds  of  invalids 
were  lying,  the  horrible  effluvia  of  the  typhus  rose  on 
the  hot  air,  and  seemed  part  of  the  misery  which  so 
strongly  assailed  her  other  senses. 


IN   THE    HOSPITAL.  183 

She  was  sick  at  heart,  and  with  every  feeling  in 
active  revolt,  but  without  a  word  she  turned  and  fol- 
lowed Dr.  Denslow  to  a  hot,  close,  little  room  which 
had  been  cut  off  one  end  of  the  hospital,  though 
not  so  separated  from  it  but  that  the  sounds  and 
odors  from  the  sick  wards  continually  filtered  in 
through  the  wide  cracks  in  its  plank  sides.  An  iron 
bedstead,  of  the  same  pattern  as  that  upon  which  the 
sick  lay,  stood  in  one  corner,  and  in  another  was  a 
rudely-fashioned  stand,  upon  which  was  a  tin-basin,  a 
cake  of  yellow  ])ar-soap,  and  a  bucket  of  water  for 
washing.     This  was  all  the  furniture. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  the  Doctor,  Rachel 
threw  herself  upon  the  cot,  in  a  fit  of  despair  at  the 
wreck  of  all  her  fancies,  and  the  repulsiveness  of  the 
career  upon  which  she  had  embarked. 

"I  can  not — I  will  not — live  here  a  week,"  she 
said  to  herself,  over  and  over  again.  "I  will  die  for 
the  lack  of  the  comforts — of  the  decencies  of  life, 
even — to  say  nothing  of  being  poisoned  b}'  these  hor- 
rible smells,  or  driven  distracted  by  the  raving  sick 
and  that  boor  of  a  Surgeon.  But  I  can  not  draw 
back  ;  I  would  rather  die  than  go  back  to  Sardis  with 
a  confession  of  failure  at  the  very  outset  of  my  at- 
tempt to  play  the  heroine."" 

Then  she  remembered  her  last  words  to  Harry 
Glen  :  "I  only  know  that  you  have  failed  where  a 
number  of  commonplace  men  have  succeeded,  and 
that  is  sufficient." 

Would  she  subject  herself  to  having  him  throw 
these  words  in  her  teeth  ?  No.  Any  shape  of  trial 
and  death,  rather. 


184  THE    RED    ACORN. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

MAKING  AN  ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  DUTY. 

And  with  light  In  her  looks  she  entered  the  chnmber  of  slcknesa. 

Noiselessly  moved  about  the  assiduous,  careful  attendants, 

Moistening  the  feverish  lip,  and  the  aching  brow,  and  In  silence 

Closing  the  sightless  eyes  of  the  d-'ad.  and  conccallnB  their  faces, 

Where  oa  their  pallets  they  lay  like  drifts  of  snow  by  the  roadside. 

Many  a  languid  head  upraised  ns  Ev;ingclln«'  entered. 

Turned  on  Its  pillow  of  pain  to  gaze  while  she  passed  for  her  presence 

Fell  on  their  hearts  like  a  ray  of  sun  on  the  walls  of  a  prison. 

And  as  she  looked  around  she  saw  how  Death  the  Consoler, 

Laying  his  hand  on  many  a  heart  had  healed  It  forever.— Eeanffeltru. 

NERVOUSLY  bolting  the  rude  door  after  Dr. 
Dcnslow's  departure,  Rachel  tossed  her  hat  into 
one  corner,  and  without  farther  undressinir  flung  her- 
self down  upon  the  coarse  l)lankets  of  the  cot,  in  utter 
exhaustion  of  mind  and  l)ody.  Nature,  i)eneticent 
ever  to  Youth  and  Health,  at  once  drew  the  kindly 
curtain  of  Sleep,  and  the  world  and  its  woes  became 
oblivion. 

Early  the  next  morn  ins:  the  shrill  reveille  called 
for  a  resumption  of  the  day's  activities.  She  was 
awakened  by  the  fifes  screaming  a  strenuously  cheer- 
ful jig,  but  lay  for  .some  minutes  without  opening  her 
eyes.  She  was  so  perfectly  healthful  in  every  way 
that  the  tribulations  of  the  previous  day  had  left  no 
other  traces  than  a  slight  weariness.  But  everysen.se 
began  informing  her  that  yesterday's  experience  was 
not  a  nightmare  of  her  sleep,  but  a  waking  reality. 
The  morning  sun  was   already  pouring   hot   beams 


MAKING    AN   ACQUAINTANCE    WITH    DUTY.  185 

upon  the  thin  roof  over  her  head.  Through  the  wide 
cracks  in  the  partition  came  the  groans  and  the  nau- 
seating odors  which  htid  depressed  her  so  on  the  day 
before.  Mingled  witlj  these  was  the  smell  of  spoiled 
coffee  and  ill-cooked  food  floating  in  from  the  kitchen, 
where  a  detail  of  slovenly  and  untaught  cooks  were 
preparing  breakfast. 

She  shuddered  and  opened  her  eyes. 
The  rude  garniture  of  her  room,  thickly  covered 
with  coarse  dust,  and  destitute  of  everything  to  make 
life  comfortable,  looked  even  more  repugna^it  than  it 
had  the  evening  before. 

The  att:u-k  of  sickness  at  heart  at  the  position  in 
which  she  found  herself  came  on  with  renewed  inten- 
.sity,  for  the  hatefulness  of  everything  connected  with 
the  lot  she  had  chosen  seemed  to  have  augmented 
during  the  passing  hours.  She  tried  to  gain  a  IKtle 
respite  by  throwing  one  white  arm  over  her  eyes,  so 
as  to  shut  out  all  sight,  that  she  might  imagine  for  a 
moment  at  least  that  she  was  back  under  the  old 
apple  tree  at  Sardis,  before  all  this  sorrow  had  come 
into  her  life. 

"It  is  not  possible,"  she  murmured  to  herself, 
"that  Florence  Nightingale,  and  those  who  assisted 
her  found  their  work  and  its  surroundings  as  unlovely 
as  it  is  here.  I  won't  believe  it.  In  Europe  things 
are  different,  and  the  hospitals  are  made  fitting  places 
for  women  to  visit  and  dwell  in." 

It  would  have  helped  her  much  if  she  could  have 
known  that  the  Crimean  hospitals,  in  which  Florence 
Nightingale  won  world-wide  fame,  lacked  immeasur- 
ably of  the  conveniences   and  comforts  with  which 


186  THE    KED    ACOKN. 

American  ingenuity  and  lavish  generosity  mitigated 
somewhat  the  wretchedness  of  army  hospitals. 

Lving  still  becoming  unendurable,  she  rose,  in 
hopes  that  action  might  bring  some  sort  of  relief. 
Such  plain  toilet  was  made  as  the  very  limited  means 
at  her  command  permitted.  The  scant  privacy  af- 
forded by  her  room  was  another  torture.  ^Maiden 
modesty  suggested  a  Peeping  Tom  at  every  yawning 
crack  in  the  planking. 

At  last,  neatly  attired  in  a  serviceal)le  gray  frock, 
with  a  dainty  white  collar  at  her  throat,  and  her  sat- 
in}' hair  brushed  smoothly  over  her  forehead,  she 
opened  her  door  and  stepped  out  into  the  main  ward 
rooni. 

A  murnuu-  of  admiration  arose  from  those  wh« 
looked  ui)on  her,  and  the  sick  cesised  groaning,  to 
feast  their  eyes  upon  -the  fiiir,  fresh  apparition  of 
sweet  young  womanhood.  There  was  such  unmis- 
takable pleasure  written  on  every  face  that  for  a  mo- 
ment even  .she  herself  became  a  little  conscious  that 
her  presence  was  like  a  grateful  shower  upon  a 
parched  and  weary  land.  But  before  she  could  buoy 
her  spirits  up  with  this  knowledge  they  sank  again  as 
she  perceived  Dr.  ^lo.xon  stalking  down  the  long 
aisle,  with  ill-humor  expressed  in  every  motion  of  his 
bulky  figure.  He  was  frowning  deeply  ;  his  great 
feet  fell  flatly  upon  the  creaking  planks,  as  if  he  were 
crushing  something  at  every  step,  and  he  rated  the 
occupants  of  the  cots  on  either  side  as  he  passed 
along. 

"No.  4,"  he  said  sharply  to  a  gaunt  boy,  whose 
cheeks  were  burning  with  rising  fever,   ''you've  got 


MAKING    AN    ACQUAINTANCE    WITH    DUTY.  187 

a  relapse.  Serv^es  you  right  for  leaving  your  bed 
yesterday.  Now  don't  deny  it,  for  I  saw  you  outside 
myself.  I'll  send  the  "Wardniaster  to  the  guard-house 
for  that." 

"But,  Doctor,  it  wasn't  his  fault,"  gasped  the  sick 
man,  painfully.  "I  begged  so  hard  to  go  out  that 
he  couldn't  refuse  me.  It  was  so  hot  in  here  and 
smellcd  so  badl}^  that  I  felt  I  should  die  unless  I  got 
a  breath  of  fresh  air." 

"  Silence  !  "  thundered  the  Surgeon  ;  "I'll  have  no 
talking  back  to  me.  Steward,  send  that  Wardmaster 
to  the  guard-house  for  disobedience  of  orders.  No. 
7,  you  refused  to  take  your  medicine  yesterday. 
Steward,  double  his  prescription,  and  if  he  shows  the 
least  resistance  to  taking  it,  have  the  nurses  hold  him 
and  force  it  down  his  throat.  Do  you  hear?  There, 
why  don't  you  hold  still?  "  (This  to  a  man  who  was 
having  a  large  blister  applied  to  his  back.) 

•'It  hurts  so,"  answered  the  sufferer. 

"Hurts,  eh?  Well,  I'll  show  you  what  hurts 
some  of  these  days,  when  I  cut  your  leg  ofi'.  Well, 
what  do  you  want,  youngster  ?  " 

A  slender,  white-faced  boy  was  standing  at  the  foot 
of  his  cot,  at  "attention,''  and  saluting  respectfully. 

"If  you  please,"  said  he,  "I'd  like  to  be  dis- 
charged, and  go  back  to  my  company.  I'm  well 
enough  now  to  do  duty,  and  I'll  be  entirely  well  in 
a  short  time,  if  I  can  get  out  of  doors  into  the 
fresh  air." 

"Indeed,"  answered  Dr.  Moxon,  with  a  sneer, 
"may  I  inquire  wdien  you  began  to  diagnose  cases, 
and  offer   advice  to  your  superior  officers?     Why 


188  THE    RED    ACORN. 

don't  you  set  up  in  the  practice  of  medicine  at  once, 
and  appl}-  for  a  commission  as  Surgeon  in  the  Army  i 
Step  back,  and  don't  ever  speak  to  me  again  in  this 
manner,  or  it  '11  l)e  the  worse  for  you,  I  can  tell  ^'ou. 
/  know  when  you  are  tit  to  go  hack  to  duty,  and  I 
won't  have  patients  anno3'ing  me  with  their  whims 
and  fancies.     Step  back,  sir.'' 

Thus  he  passed  along,  leaving  anger  and  humilia- 
tion behind  him,  as  a  steamer  leaves  a  wake  of  waves 
beaten  into  a  froth. 

"Old  Sawbones  made  a  mistake  with  his  morning 
cocktail,  and  mi.xed  a  lot  of  wormwood  with  it,"  said 
one  of  the  ••convalescents^"  in  an  undertone  to  those 
about  him. 

"This  awful  hot  weather's  spilin'  most  every- 
thing." said  anotlu'r,  "and  the  old  man's  tem})er 
never  was  any  too  sweVt." 

Dr.  Moxon  came  up  to  Kaciiel,  and  regarded  her 
for  an  instant  very  unpleasantly.  "Young  woman," 
he  said  in  a  harsh  tone  and  with  a  >till  harsher  man- 
ner, "the  rules  of  this  institution  reciuire  every 
attendant  to  be  present  at  morning  roll-call,  under 
pain  of  punishment.  You  were  not  present  this 
morning,  but  be  careful  that  you  are  in  future.'' 

Kachel's  grief  over  her  own  situation  had  been 
swallowed  up  by  indignation  at  the  Surgeon's  brutal- 
it}'  to  others.  All  her  higher  instincts  were  on  tire  at 
the  gratuitous  insults  to  boys,  toward  whom  her  wo- 
manly sympathies  streamed  out.  The  pugnacious 
element,  large  in  hers  as  in  all  strong  natures,  asserted 
itself  and  invited  to  the  fray.  If  there  was  no  one 
else  to  resist  this  petty  tyrant  she  would,  and  may- 


MAKING    AN    ACQUAINTANCE    WITH    DUTY.  189 

hap  in  this  she  might  tind  such  exercise  of  her  heroic 
qualities  that  she  felt  were  within  her,  as  would  justify 
herself  in  her  own  esteem.  She  met  with  a  resolute 
glance  his  peevish  eyes,  and  said  : 

"When  the  rules  are  communicated  to  me  in  a 
proper  manner,  I  shall  take  care  to  obey  them,  if  the\'^ 
are  just  and  proper ;  but  I  will  not  be  spoken  to  in 
that  way  by  any  man.'' 

His  eyes  fell  from  the  encounter  with  hers,  and  tlie 
dull  mottle  on  his  cheek  became  crimson  witli  a  l)lush 
at  this,  assertion  of  outraged  womanl}-  dignity.  He 
turned  away,  saying  gruffly  : 

"Just  as  I  expected.  The  moment  a  woman 
comes  into  the  hospital,  all  discipline  is  at  an 
end." 

He  moved  oft"  angrily.  All  the  inmates  saw  and 
overheard.  If  Rachel's  refreshing  beauty  had  capti- 
vated them  before,  her  dauntless  spirit  completed  the 
conquest. 

A  cheery  voice  behind  her  said  "  Good  morning." 
There  was  something  so  winning  in  its  tones  that  the 
set  lines  in  her  indignant  face  relaxed,  and  she  turned 
softened  eyes  to  meet  the  frankly  genial  ones  of  Dr. 
Paul  Denslow. 

"  Good  morning,  Miss ^,"  he  repeated,  as  she 

hesitated,  a  little  dazed. 

"  Bond — Rachel  Bond's  my  name.  Good  morning, 
sir,*'  she  answered,  putting  out  her  hand. 

As  he  took  it,  he  said :  "  I  want  to  make  an  abject 
apology.  We  are  ill-prepared  to  entertain  a  lady 
here,  and  no  one  knew  of  your  coming.  But  we  cer- 
tainly intended  to  mitigate  in  some  degree  the  deso- 


190  THE    RED   ACORN. 

lation  of  the  room  to  which  you  were  conducted.  I 
left  you  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  what  the  store- 
room contained  tliat  would  contribute  a  trifle  toward 
transforming  it  into  a  maiden's  Ijoucr — " 

''Cindert'lia'-;  fairy  godmother  couldn't  have  made 
the  transformation  with  tliat  room,"  she  said  willi  a 
little  shrug  of  despair. 

''Probably  not —probably  not— and  I  lay  no  claim 
to  evi'u  the  least  of  the  powers  exercised  l)y  the  old 
lady  with  the  wand.  Biit  I  allow  no  man  to  surpass 
me  in  the  matter  of  good  intentions.  Tliat  is  a  lux- 
ury of  wliich  the  poorest  of  us  can  afford  an  abun- 
dance, and  I  will  not  deny  myself  anything  that  is  so 
cheap." 

Rachel  was  beguiled  inti)  t^miling  at  his  merry 
cynicism. 

''Allusions  to  the  pavement  in  the  unmentionable 
place  are  barred  in  this  connection,"  he  continued 
gayly.  ''On  my  way  to  carry  out  the.se  good  inten- 
tention.s — at  some  one  else's  expense,  remember,  all 
the  time — I  was  called  to  the  bedside  of  a  dying  man, 
and  detained  there  some  time.  "When  I  at  last  re 
turned  to  your  room,  I  ju<lged  that  you  were  fast 
asleep,  and  1  decided  not  to  disturb  you." 

"I  think  you  would  have  found  it  a  difficult  mat- 
ter to  have  roused  me.  I  had  sunk  on  the  cot,  and 
was  sleeping  the  sleep  of — " 

"The  just,"  interposed  Dr.  Denslow,  gallantly. 

"No,  of  the  fatigued." 

"Well,  scientific  truth  compels  me  to  say  that 
fatigue  is  a  surer  and  stronger  sedative  than  a  clear 
conscience  even.     I   know,  for  I   have  occasionally 


MAKING    AN    ACQUAINTANCE    \VTrH    DUTY.  191 

ti'ied  a  clear  conscience — only  by  way  of  experiment, 
you  know/'  he  added,  apologetically. 

"  Well,  whatever  the  cause,  I  was  sleeping  as 
though  on  downy  beds  of  ease," 

''Then  my  mind  is  lightened  of  a  mountain-load 
of  responsibility  for  having  made  you  pass  a  miser- 
able night.  But  let's  go  in  to  breakfast.  I  am 
opposed  to  doing  anything  on  an  empty  stomach- 
even  to  holding  a  pleasant  conversation.  It  invites 
malaria,  and  malaria  brings  a  number  of  disagreeable 
sensations  which  people  mistake  for  repentance, 
remorse,  religious  awakening,  and  so  on,  according  to 
their  mental  idiosyncrasies,  and  the  state  of  their 
digestion." 

The  breakfiist  did  not  help  remove  the  unpleasant 
impressions  already  made  u})on  her  mind.  The  cloth 
tliat  covered  the  coarse  planks  of  the  table  was  unmis- 
takably a  well-worn  sheet.  Tin  cups  and  platters 
made  humble  substitution  for  china,  and  were  appro- 
priately accompanied  by  cast-iron  knives  and  two- 
tined  forks. 

Two  Hospital  Stewards— denoted  by  the  green 
bands,  embroidered  with  caducel^  around  their  arms 
—and  the  same  numl)or  of  Wardmasters,  formed  the 
mess  which  sat  down  with  Dr.  Denslow  and  Rachel, 
on  benches  around  the  table. 

What  buoyant  cheerfulness  could  do  to  raise 
Rachel's  spirits  and  give  an  appetizing  flavor  to  the 
coarse  viands.  Dr.  Denslow  did. 

"I  apprehend,"  said  he,  "that  you  will  suspect 
that  in  obtaining  this  steak  the  indefatigable  cook 
made  a  mistake,  and  sliced  a  piece  from  a  side  of  sole 


102  THE    RED    ACORN. 

leather  hangins;  near.  This  was  not  the  case.  It  was 
selected  with  a  deep  physiological  design.  Meat  of 
this  character  consists  almost  wholly  of  fibrine,  the 
least  heat-producing  constituent  of  flesh.  By  exclud- 
ing all  fats  and  other  tender  portions,  and  contining 
ourselves  to  fibrine,  we  are  the  better  able  to  stand 
this  torrid  weather." 

One  of  the  Hospital  Stewards  gi'oaned  deeply. 

'^  What  is  the  matter,  '  Squills'  ^  "  saiil  the  Doctor, 
kindly. 

"I  wa.s  thinking  of  the  monstrous  tibber-in  here." 
said  "Squills,''  lugul)n<)usly. 

"'  'Squills,'  I  don't  know  how  I  can  properly  pun- 
ish the  disrespect  shown  our  young  lady  guest  and 
your  superior  officer,  by  that  vile  pun  nnd  the  viler 
implication  contained  in  it." 

''This  sugar,"  continued  the  Doctor,  lifting  some 
out  of  an  old  tomato  can  with  a  large  iron  spoon,  and 
tendering  it  to  Rachel  for  her  coflfee,  "has  a  rich 
golden  color,  which  is  totally  absent  from  the  paler 
varieties  to  which  you  are  accustomed.  Its  deeper 
hue  comes  from  having  caught  more  of  the  Cuban 
yellow  sun's  rays." 

"Yes,"  interjected  "^^  Squills,"  "all  the  Cuban's 
yellow  sons  raise.  Their  daughters,  too,  are  some- 
times almost  brown." 

Dr.  Denslow  frowned. 

*'  What  a  queer  odor  it  has,"  said  Rachel,  sniffing 
it,  and  staying  the  spoon  just  over  her  cup. 

"Has  it?"  said  the  Doctor,  sniffing  too.  "O, 
that 's  nothing.  That 's  only  chlorofoiTn.  The  ants 
were  very  bad.  and  we  put  some  in  to  kill  them  off.'' 


MAKING  AN  ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  DUTY.      103 

"  I  don't  believe  1 11  take  any  in  my  coffee,  thank 
you,"  said  Rachel,  calmly.  "There  are  times  when 
I  don't  like  it  sweetened." 

"But  you'll  certainly  take  cream,  then,"  he  said, 
breaking  off  the  cover  of  a  can  of  condensed  milk. 
"Here  is  some  put  up  on  the  reverse  of  the  homoe- 
opathic plan.  Instead  of  beinor  the  30th  dilution,  it 
is  about  the  30th  concentration.  With  this  little  can, 
and  his  pump  in  good  order,  a  milkman  could  supply 
a  g()()(i  big  route  with  ^pure  grass-fed  milk.'  Within 
these  narrow  walls  are  compressed  the  nutritive  juices 
of  an  acre  of  fragrant  white  clover." 

"The  Doctor  was  formerly  a  lecturer  in  a  medical 
college,"  said  "  Squills"  sotto  voce  to  Rachel. 

Rachel's  appetite  had  seemed  sufficient  for  almost 
any  food,  but  she  confined  her  breakfast  to  two  or 
three  crackers  of  hard  bread,  and  a  few  sups  of  coffee. 
The  pleasantry  had  failed  of  its  desired  effect.  It 
was  like  vinegar  upon  niter,  or  the  singing  of  songs 
to  an  heavy  heart. 

As  they  rose  from  the  table  the  Doctor  infonned 
her  that  he  and  the  Stewards  were  about  to  make 
their  morning  round  of  the  wards,  and  that  she  had 
better  accompany  them.  She  went  along  without  a 
word. 

They  walked  slowly  up  and  down  the  long  aisles 
behind  the  Doctor,  who  stopped  before  each  cot,  and 
closely  examined  its  occupant's  tongue,  pulse,  and 
other  indicators  of  his  condition,  and  gave  prescrip- 
tions, which  the  Steward  wrote  down,  as  to  medicine 
and  food.  What  was  better  still  were  his  words  of 
sympathy  for  the  verv  ill  and  of  cheery  encourage- 
N  9       " 


194  THE    RED    ACORN. 

ment  for  the  convalescent,  which  he  bestowed  upon 
every  one. 

"A  visit  from  Dr.  Dcnslow  docs  a  sick  man  more 
good,"  whispered  "S(iiiiils"  to  Rachel,  as  he  saw  lior 
eyes  light  up  with  admiration  at  the  Doctor's  tactful 
kindliness,  "than  all  the  drugs  in  the  disjwnsary.  I 
sometimes  bolieve  he's  one  of  them  that  can  cure  by  a 
simple  laying-on  of  hands.  He's  just  the  ()pi)osite  of 
old  Moxon,  who'd  counteract  the  effect  of  the  best 
medicine  in  the  world." 

''No.  19,  Quin.  Sulph..  grains  IT);  make  four 
powders,  one  every  three  hours,"  continued  "  Squills," 
repeating  the  directions  as  he  received  them,  "  Spir- 
it us  Frumcnti.  1  oz.,  at  evening.  No.  2  diet.  No. 
20,  Dover's  powdt'r  10  grains,  at  bedtime.  No.  1 
diet.  You,"  addressing  himself  to  Richel  again, 
"will  do  even  better  than  Dr.  Dcnslow,  .'^oon.  Can't 
you  .see  how  the  mere  sight  of  you  brightens  up  eve- 
rybody around  here  ? " 

Rachel  had  no  reply  ready  for  so  broad  a  compli- 
ment. l)ut  its  assertion  of  her  high  usetulne.ss  went  far 
to  reconcile  her  to  her  position. 

She  wondered  silently  if  her  mission  was  to  be  con- 
fined to  posing  as  a  thing  of  beauty  and  a  joy  forever. 

This  diftered  much  from  her  expectation.s,  for  she 
dreaded  at  each  step  le.st  the  next  bring  her  face  to 
face  with  some  horrible  task,  which  she  would  be  ex- 
pected to  undertake.  But  the  Doctor,  with  his  usual 
tact,  was  almost  imperceptibly  inducting  her  into  her 
duties. 

"  Would  Miss  Bond  kindly  shake  this  powder  into 
that  cup  of  water  and  giv(«  it  to  that  boy?" 


MAKTNG    AN    ACQUAINTANrR    ^^^TH    DUTY.  195 

She  did  .so,  and  was  rewarded  by  the  recipient's 
grateful  look,  as  he  said  : 

*'It  don't  seem  at  all  nasty  when  ijou  give  it  to 
me." 

"Would  she  hand  that  one  this  bit  of  magnesia 
for  his  heartburn  i  " 

It  was  a  young  Irishman,  who  received  the  mag- 
nesia with  a  gallant  speech  : 

"  Faith,  your  white  fingers  have  made  it  swater 
than  loaf-sugar." 

Rachel  colored  deeply,  and  those  within  hearing 
laughed. 

At  the  ne.xt  cot  a  feverish  boy  tossed  wearily. 
Rachel  noticed  the  uncomfortable  arrangement  of  the 
folded  blanket  which  did  duty  as  a  pillow.  She 
stepped  quickly  to  the  head  of  the  cot,  took  the 
blanket  out,  refoldc^l  it  with  a  few  deft,  womanly  mo- 
tions, and  replaced  it  with  a  cool  surface  upper- 
most. 

"O,  that  is  so  good,"  murmured  the  boy,  half- 
unclosing  his  eyes.  '"It's  just  as  mother  wouldVe 
done  it." 

Dr.  Denslow  looked  earnest  approval. 

Rachel  began  to  feel  an  interest  kindling  in  her 
work.  It  was  not  in  a  womanly  nature  to  resist  this 
cordial  appreciation  of  all  she  did. 

A  few  cots  farther  on  a  boy  wanted  a  letter  writ- 
ten home.  She  was  provided  with  stationery,  and 
taking  her  place  by  the  side  of  the  cot,  received  his 
instructions,  and  wrote  to  his  anxious  parents  the  first 
news  they  had  had  from  their  only  son  since  they  had 
been  informed,  two  weeks  before,  that  he  harl   l)een 


lOfi  THE    RED    ACORN. 

sent  to  the  hospital.  AVhon  slio  had  tinishod  she  re- 
joined the  Doctor,  who  had  by  this  time  nearly  com- 
pleted his  round  of  the  ward.  As  soon  as  he  was 
throuirh  he  dismissed  Stewards  and  Wardmasters 
to  their  duties,  and  returned  with  her  to  her  room. 
It  was  so  chanf^ed  that  she  thought  .she  had  made  a 
mistake  when  she  opened  the  door.  The  time  of  her 
absence  had  been  well  employed  by  a  detail  of  men, 
whom  the  Dvntor  had  previously  instructed.  The 
floor  was  as  white  and  clean  as  stronir  arms  with  an 
abundance  of  soap  and  hot  water  could  scrub  it,  the 
walls  and  ceilinir  were  neatly  papered  with  narj}n'\^ 
Weeklies,  and  Frank  Lefdien,  other  papei-s  concealed 
the  roughness  of  the  table  and  shelves,  white  sheets 
and  piliow-cast's  had  irivcn  the  cot  an  air  of  invitinir 
neatness,  and  before  it  lay  a  scpiare  of  raff  carpet. 
The  window  was  shaded  with  calico  curtains,  the  tin 
basin  and  dipi)er  had  been  scoured  to  bri«?htness,  and 
beside  them  stood  a  cedar  water-pail  with  shining 
brass  hoops. 

''Ah,"  she  said,  with  brinhteninir  f:ice,  "this  is 
something  like  living." 

"Yes."  answered  Dr.  Denslow,  ''I  imagine  it  is 
some  improvement  upon  the  sandy  desert  in  which 
you  spent  the  night.  I  hojie  we  will  soon  be  able  to 
make  it  still  more  comfortable.  AVe  have  just  started 
this  hospital,  and  we  are  sadly  destitute  of  many  of 
the  commonest  necessaries  of  such  an  institution. 
But  everything  will  get  lietter  in  a  week  or  so,  and 
while  I  can  not  exactly  promi.se  you  the  comforts  of 
a  home,  I  can  assure  you  that  life  will  l>e  made  more 
endurable  than  it  seems  to  be  possible  now." 


MAKING   AX    ACQUAINTANCE    WITH    DUTY.  197 

"I  do  hope  none  of  this  has  been  taken  away  from 
any  sick  man  who  needs  it  more  than  I  ? "  said  Ra- 
chel, with  a  remembrance  of  how  much  the  boys  in 
the  ward  needed. 

"•Do  not  disturb  yourself  with  any  such  thought. 
Your  comfort  has  not  l)een  bought  at  the  expense  of 
any  one  else's.  I  would  not  give,  even  to  you,  any- 
liiing  that  would  help  restore  a  sick  soldier  to  his  reg- 
iment or  his  home.  My  first  duty,  as  that  of  yours 
and  all  of  us,  is  to  him.  He  is  the  man  of  the  occa- 
sion. All  the  rest  of  us  are  mere  adjuncts  to  him. 
We  have  no  reason  for  being,  except  to  increase  his 
etfectiveness."" 

The  earnestness  with  which  he  spoke,  so  diflferent 
fiom  his  light  bantering  at  the  breakfast  table,  made 
her  regard  him  more  attentively. 

"  I  begin  to  get  a  glimmering,"  she  said  at  length, 
"of  the  inspiration  in  this  kind  of  work.  Before  it 
has  all  seemed  unutteral)ly  repulsive  to  me.  But  it 
has  its  rewards."' 

"Yes,"  said  he,  lapsing  still  deeper  into  a  mood 
which  she  soon  came  to  recognize  in  him  as  a  frequent 
one  of  spiritual  exaltation,  "we  who  toil  here,  lal)or 
amidst  the  wreck  and  ruin  of  war  without  the  benefit 
of  that  stirring  impulse  which  fills  the  souls  of  those 
who  actually  go  into  battle.  The  terrors  of  human 
surtering  which  they  see  but  for  an  instant,  as  when 
the  lio^htning  in  the  niorht  shows  the  ravages  of 
the  storm,  encompass  us  about  and  abide  with  us 
continually.  We  are  called  upon  for  another  kind 
of  fortitude,  and  we  must  look  for  our  reward  other- 
wise than  in  the  victor's  laurels.     We  can  only  have 


198  THK    RED    ACORN. 

to  animate  us  our  own  consciousness  of  a  high  duty 
well  done.  To  one  class  of  minds  this  is  an  infinitely 
rich  meed.  The  old  Jewish  legend  says  tliat  Abra- 
ham's principal  jewel  was  one  worn  upon  hi.s  breast, 
••  whose  lisrht  raised  those  who  were  bowed  down,  and 
Iicaled  the  sick,'  and  when  he  passed  from  earth  it 
was  placed  in  heaven,  where  it  shone  ;is  one  of  the 
great  stars.     Of  sucIj  kind  nmst  be  oui- jewel." 

He  stopped,  and  bbisliing  through  his  beard,  as  if 
ashamed  of  his  heroics,  said  witii  a  liglit  laugh  : 

"But  if  there  is  anything  I  fear  it  is  self-righteous- 
ness which  cankereth  the  soul.  Come  ;  I  will  show 
you  a  sight  which  will  repress  any  tendency  you  may 
ever  feel  to  exalt  your  services  to  the  pinnacle  of  hu- 
man merit." 

Wiiile  leading  her  to  a  remote  part  of  the  hospital 
he  continued  :  '•  Of  course  greater  love  hath  no  man 
than  this,  that  he  give  his  life  for  that  which  he  loves. 
Considered  relatively  to  the  person  the  peasant  who 
falls  in  the  defense  of  his  country  gives  just  as  much 
as  the  Emperor  who  may  die  by  his  side.  In  either 
case  the  measure  of  devotion  is  brim-full.  Nothing 
more  can  be  added  to  it.  But  there  are  accessories 
and  surroundings  which  apparently  make  one  life  of 
much  gi-eater  value  than  another,  and  make  it  a  vastly 
richer  sacrifice  when  laid  on  the  altar  of  patriot- 
ism." 

"There  are  certainly  degrees  of  merit,  even  in 
yielding  up  one's  life,"  said  Rachel,  not  altogether 
unmindful  of  the  sacrifice  she  herself  had  made  in 
coming  to  the  front. 

"  Judsred  bvthis  stnndnrd."  the  Doctor  continued, 


MAKING  AN  ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  DUTY.      100 

"the  younir  man  whom  we  are  about  to  see  has  made 
a  richer  oftering  to  his  country  than  it  is  possible  for 
most  men  to  make.  It  almost  shames  me  as  to  the 
meagerness  of  the  gift  I  bring." 

"If  you  be  ashamed  how  must  others  who  give 
much  less  feel  ?  " 

"  He  was  in  the  first  dawn  of  manhood."  the  Doc- 
tor went  on,  without  noticing  the  interruption,  "'hand- 
some as  a  heathen  god,  educated  and  wealthy,  and 
with  high  aspirations  for  a  distinguished  scientific 
ciireer  fermenting  in  his  young  blood  like  new  wine. 
Yet  he  turned  his  back  upon  all  this — upon  the  open- 
ing of  a  happy  married  life — to  carry  a  private  sol- 
dier's nuisket  in  the  ranks,  and  to  die  ingloriously  by 
the  shot  of  a  skulking  bushwhacker.  He  would  not 
even  take  a  conuuission,  because  he  wanted  that  used 
to  encourage  some  other  man,  who  might  need  the 
inducement.'" 

"  But  why  call  his  death  inglorious?  If  a  man 
braves  death  why  is  any  one  time  or  place  worse  than 
another  ? " 

"Because  for  a  man  of  his  temperament  he  is 
dying  the  cruellest  death  possible.  He  had  expected, 
if  called  upon  to  yield  up  his  life,  to  i)urchase  with  it 
some  great  good  for  his  country.  But  to  perish  use- 
lessly as  he  is  doing,  as  if  bitten  by  a  snake,  is  terri- 
ble. Here  we  are.  I  will  tell  you  before  we  go  in 
that  he  has  a  bullet  wound  through  the  body,  just 
grazing  an  artery  and  it  is  only  a  question  of  a  short 
time,  and  the  slightest  shock,  when  a  fatal  hemorr- 
hage will  ensue.     Be  very  quiet  and  careful." 

He  untied  a  rope  stretched  across  the  entrance  to 


2U0  TIIK    KED    A('(JKN. 

a  little  wing  of  the  buildiiiir  to  keej)  unnecessary  foot- 
steps at  a  distance. 

"  How  is  he  this  morninfj: '."  he  asked  of  a  fjrav- 
haired  nurse  seated  in  front  of  a  door  curtained  witii 
a  blanket. 

••(^uiet  and  cheerful  as  ever."  answcn'(l  the  nur>c, 
risin<;  and  puUiiii,^  the  l)hiiikcl  aside  tliat  they  might 
enter. 

The  face  upon  which  KacheKs  eyes  fell  when  she 
entered  the  room  imi)ressed  her  as  an  unusual  combi- 
nation of  refinement  an<l  strength.  Beyond  this  she 
noted  little  as  to  the  details  of  the  patient's  counte- 
nance, except  that  he  had  hazel  eyes,  and  a  clear  com- 
l)lexi()n  asserting  itself  undt-r  llie  deep  sun-burn- 
ing. 

When  they  entered  he  wjis  languidly  fanning  him- 
.self  with  a  fan  which  had  been  ingenious!)-  construct- 
ed for  him  by  some  inmate,  out  of  a  twig  of  willow 
bent  into  a  hex)}),  and  covered  by  pasting  paper  over 
it.  He  gave  a  faint  smile  of  welcome  to  the  Doctor, 
but  his  face  liirhted  up  with  pleasure  wlien  he  .saw 
Kachel. 

"Good  morning,  Sanderson,"  said  Dr.  Denslow, 
in  a  repres.sed  voice.     "  How  do  3'ou  feel  ?  " 

"As  usual,"  whispered  Sanderson. 

''This  is  Miss  Rachel  Bond,  who  is  a.ssigned  to 
our  hospital  as  nurse." 

A  slight  movement  of  Sanderson's  head  acknowl- 
edged Rachel's  bow. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  he  whispered,  taking 
hold  of  her  hand.      "  Sit  down  there,  please." 


MAKING  AN  ACQUAINTANCh  WITH  DUTY.      20i 

Rachel  took  the  indicated  .scat  id  the  head  of 
the  cot. 

''Doctor,"  inquired  Sanderson,  "is  it  true  that 
McClellan  has  had  to  fall  back  from  before  Rich- 
mond ? " 

''I  have  tried  hard  to  keep  the  news  from  you," 
answered  Dr.  Denslow,  reluctantly.  *■'  I  fear  it 
is  too  true.  Let  us  hope  it  is  only  a  temporary 
reverse,  and  that  it  will  soon  be  more  than  over- 
come." 

"Not  in  time  for  me,"  said  Sanderson,  in  deep 
dejection.  •'  I  have  lived  several  days  merely  because 
I  wanted  to  see  Richmond  taken  before  I  died.  I  can 
wait  no  longer." 

The  Doctor  essayed  some  confused  words  of  en- 
couragement, but  stopped  abruptly,  and  feigning 
important  business  in  another  part  of  the  hospital, 
hurried  out,  bidding  Rachel  await  his  return. 

When  he  was  gone  Sanderson  lifted  RacheKs  hand 
to  his  lips,  and  said  with  deep  feeling: 

"I  am  so  glad  you  have  come.  You  rcniind  iiu^ 
of  her." 

The  ebbing  life  welled  up  for  the  last  time  into 
such  ardent  virility  that  Rachel's  first  maidenly  instinct 
was  to  withdraw  her  hand  from  his  earnest  pressure 
and  kiss. 

"  No,  do  not  take  your  hand  away,"  he  said 
eagerly.  "There  need  be  no  shame,  for  I  shall  be 
clay  almost  before  your  blush  has  had  time  to  fade. 
I  infringe  on  no  other's  rights,  for  I  see  in  you  only 
another  whom  you  much  resemble." 


202  THE    KED    ACOKN. 

Rachel  suffered  her  haiul  to  remain  within  his 
grasp. 

"I  would  that  she  knew,  as  you  do,  that  I  died 
thinking  of  her,  next  to  ni}-  country.  You  will  write 
and  tell  her  so.  The  Doctor  will  irive  you  hvv  address, 
and  you  can  tell  her,  a.s  only  a  woman  can  tell  an- 
other what  the  woman-heart  hun<rers  for,  of  my  last 
moments.  It  is  >o  nmch  i)ettcr  that  you  should  do  it 
than  Dr.  Donslow.  even,  errand  as  he  is  in  every  way. 
You  will  tell  her  that  there  was  not  a  thought  of 
repining — that  I  felt  that  giving  my  life  was  only 
partial  repayment  to  those  who  gave  theii*s  to  pur- 
chase for  me  every  good  thing  that  I  have  enjoyed.  I 
had  twenty-tive  years  of  as  happy  a  life  as  ever  a  man 
lived,  and  she  came  as  its  crowning  joy.  I  look  for 
ward  almost  eagerly  to  what  that  Power,  which  has 
made  every  succeeding  year  of  my  life  happier  than 
the  previous  one,  has  in  store  for  me  in  the  awakening 
beyond.  Ah,  see  there  I  It  has  come.  There  goes 
my  life." 

She  looked  in  the  direction  of  his  gaze,  and  saw  a 
pool  of  blood  slowly  spreading  out  fnmi  under  the 
bed,  banking  itself  against  the  dust  into  miniature 
gulfs  and  seius.  The  hand  that  held  hers  relaxed,  and 
looking  around  she  saw  his  eyes  closed  as  if  in  peace- 
ful sleep. 

Dr.  Denslow  entered  while  she  still  gazed  on  the 
dead  face,  and  said  : 

"I  am  so  sorry  I  left  you  alone.  I  did  not  expect 
this  for  some  hours. " 

"  How  petty  and  selfish  all  my  life  has  been,"  said 
Rachel,  dejectedly,  as  they  left  the  room. 


MAKING   AN    ACQUAINTANCE    WITH   DUTY.  208 

"Not  a  particle  more  than  his  was,  probably," 
said  Dr.  Denslow,  ''until  his  opportunity  came.  It  is 
opportunity  that  makes  the  hero,  as  well  as  the  less 
reputable  personage,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  when 
yours  comes,  you  will  redeem  yourself  from  all  blame 
of  selfishness  and  pettiness. " 


204  TUE   RED   ACORN. 


CHAPTER      XVI. 

THE    AMBUSCADE. 

This  bcaryhcaded  rcvrl,  cut  and  wrst. 

Makes  ui  tnitliu-id  and  taxed  uf  other  nailona; 

They  clop«-  u*driinkardK,  nnd  with  swInlaU  fras^ 

Boil  our  addlilon:  nnd  Indi  id  It  takrn 

From  our  achievements.  tliuuKli  pcrfunuedat  bight. 

The  pith  and  marrow  of  our  attribute.— //amtet. 

THE  day  sjicnt  witli  Aunt  D('l)hy  liad  boon  of  tlio 
<rreato>t  Ittiictil  to  Hanv  (rlon.  Sinco  his  pait- 
infj  with  Kaciu'l  Bond,  tlu'ic  had  Ix-on  «r<>in«;  on  in  his 
spirit  a  fcrnu'ntation  like  that  witli  whicli  «rood  wine 
discharges  itself  of  its  crossness  and  iinpiiritic's,  and 
becomes  clear  and  line.  In  this  process  had  vanished 
the  al)sorbin«r  seltishness  of  a  n)ucli-indul<re<l  only 
son,  and  the  supercilious  ofrotisni  whicli  came  as  an 
almost  necessary  result  of  his  colleire  curricu- 
lum. This  spiritual  riiTcninj;  received  its  perfecting 
color  and  bloom  from  the  serene  exaltation  of  Aunt 
Debby's  soul.  So  filled  was  she  with  lofty  devotion 
to  the  cause,  so  complete  her  faith  in  its  holiness,  and 
so  untiuestioniiiir  her  beli«'f  that  it  was  every  one's 
simple  duty  to  brave  all  daniiers  for  it,  and  die  if  need 
be  without  a  murmur,  that  contact  with  her  would 
have  inspired  with  pure  patriotic  ardor  a  nature  much 
less  ready  for  such  leavening  than  Harry's. 

As  Dr.  Denslow  had  surmised,  his  faults  were 
mainly  superricial,  and  underneath  them  was  a  tirm 
gristle  of  manhood,  which  would  speedily  harden  into 


THE     AMBUSCADK.  205 

bone.  With  the  experience  he  had  been  having,  days 
would  mature  this  as  rapidly  as  ordinary  years.  He 
wa§  himself  hardly  aware  of  the  transformation,  but 
only  felt,  as  his  physical  exhaustion  disappeared,  a 
new  eagerness  to  participate  in  the  great  work  of  tlie 
war.  He  was  gratified  to  know  a  little  later  that  this 
was  no  transient  feeling.  In  the  course  of  the  even- 
ing Jim  Former  came  in,  with  Kent  Edwards  and  Abe 
Bolton.  After  they  had  all  satisfied  their  hunger, 
Fortner  informed  Harry  and  Aunt  Debby  that  the 
enemy  had  fallen  back  to  London,  from  which  point 
he  was  sending  out  wagons  intotiic  surrounding  coun- 
try, to  gather  up  food,  forage,  arms,  clothing,  ammu- 
nition, etc.,  with  the  double  object  of  depriving  the 
Union  men  of  them,  and  adding  the  same  to  the 
Rebel  resources.  A  long  train  had  also  been  sent  out 
to  the  Goose  Creek  Salt  AVorks— twenty-five  miles 
northeast  of  London— to  l)ring  away  a  lot  of  salt 
stored  there,  of  wliich  the  Rebels  had  even  more  need 
than  of  food. 

Fortner  proposed  to  go  out  in  the  morning,  and 
endeavor  to  cajiture  some  of  these  wagons.  It  seemed 
altogether  probable  that  a  few  might  be  caught  in 
such  a  position  that  their  guards  could  be  killed  or 
driven  off. 

All  readily  agreed  to  this  plan,  Aunt  Debby  lead- 
ing off  by  volunteering  to  ride  ahead  on  her  mare,  as 
a  scout. 

Harry  suddenly  remembered  that  he  was  weapon- 
less. "What  shall  I  do  for  a  gun?"  he  asked,  anx- 
iously. 

"Ideclar,  I  done  forgot  all  'bout  gittin'  ye  a  gun," 


206  THE    IIKD    ACORS. 

said  ForliRT  with  real  conciTn.  "  My  iiiind  was  dis- 
turbed by  otlier  things,"  lie  added  with  a  suspicion  of 
a  grin  at  Edwards  and  Bolton ;  but  they  were  leaning 
back  in  their  chairs  fast  asleep.  A})pl'.'  jack,  fatigue 
and  a  hearty  supper  together  made  a  narcotic  too 
potent  to  resist. 

Fortncr  rose,  spread  a  t"ew  l)lankets  on  the  floor, 
added  a  sack  of  bran  for  a  pillow,  and  with  sonic  dif- 
ficulty induced  the  two  sleepei*s  to  lie  down  and  take 
their  shimbei-s  in  a  more  natural  position. 

•ril  tind  ye  a  gun,"  .said  Aunt  Dcbby,  as  this 
operation  was  tinished,  and  walking  to  a  farther 
corner  of  the  room,  she  came  l)ack  bearing  in  her 
hand  a  ritle  very  similar  to  the  one  Fortner  car- 
ried. 

"Thar,"  she  said,,  .setting  the  delicately-curved 
brazen  heel  down  upon  the  hearth,  and  holding  the 
muzzle  at  arm's  length  while  she  gazed  at  the  gun 
with  the  admiration  one  can  not  help  feeling  for  a 
magnificent  weapon,  "is  ez  true  a  rifle  ez  ever  a  man 
put  to  his  shoulder.  Ef  I  didn't  b'lave  ye  ter  be  ez 
true  ez  steel  ye  shouldn't  tech  hit,  fur  hit  belonged 
ter  the  truest  man  in  this  livin'  world.'' 

"Hit  wuz  her  husband's,"  explained  Fortner,  as 
her  lips  met  firmly,  as  if  choking  down  bitter  mem- 
ories. 

"  Fm  givin'  hit  ter  ye  ter  use  ez  he'd  a-used  hit  ef 
he  war  a-livin',"  she  said,  steadying  her  tones  with  a 
perceptible  eflfort.  "  Fm  glad  thet  my  hands  can  put 
inter  yours  the  means  ter  avenge  him." 

Harry  tried  in  vain  to  make  an  appropriate 
response. 


THE     AMBr>iCADE.  207 

"I'll  clean  hit  up  for  ye,"  she  said  to  Harry,  as 
she  saw  Fortner  beginning  to  furbish  up  his  own  rifle 
for  the  next  day's  duties. 

That  she  was  no  stranger  to  the  work  was  shown 
by  the  skill  with  which  she  addressed  herself  to  it. 
Nothing  that  a  Kentucky  mountaineer  does  has  more 
of  the  aspect  of  a  labor  of  love,  than  his  caring  for  a 
fine  rifle,  and  any  of  them  would  have  been  put  to 
shame  by  the  deftness  of  Aunt  Debby's  supple  hands. 
Removing  the  leathern  hood  which  protected  the 
lock,  she  carefully  rubbed  off*  the  hannnor  and  nipple 
with  a  wisp  of  soft  tine  tow,  and  picked  out  the  tube 
with  a  needle.  Wrapping  another  bit  of  tow  around 
the  end  of  a  wiping-stick,  she  moistened  it  slightly  in 
her  mouth,  and  carefully  swabbed  out  of  the  inside  of 
the  barrel  every  suspicion  of  dust  and  dirt.  Each  of 
the  winding  rifles  was  made  clean  and  free  along  its 
whole  course.  Then  the  tow  swab  was  lightly  touched 
with  sweet,  unsalted  goose-fat,  that  it  might  spread  a 
rust-preventing  film  over  the  interior  surface.  She 
burnished  the  silver  and  l)rass  ornaments,  and  rubbed 
the  polished  stock  until  it  shone.  When  not  a  suspi- 
cion of  soil  or  dirt  remained  any  where,  the  delicate 
double  triggers  were  examined  and  set  so  that  they 
would  yield  at  the  stroke  of  a  hair,  a  tuft  of  lightly- 
oiled  tow  was  placed  over  the  nipple  and  another 
closed  the  muzzle. 

"Thar,"  said  Aunt  Debby,  setting  the  gun  back 
against  the  logs,  "  is  a  rifle  that  '11  allers  do  hits  dut}^ 
ef  the  man  a-holt  of  hit  does  his.  Let's  see  how  the 
ammunition  is." 

The  powder  horn  was  found  to  be  well  filled  with 


20S  THE     KKl)    AfORN. 

powdor.  and  the  l)ox  witli  cn\)>,  hut  there  were  only  a 
few  bullets. 

"I'll  run  ye  some."  she  said,  takin":  from  a  shelf 
a  small  iron  ladle,  a  few  hars  of  lead,  and  a  \rMr  of 
hulh't  molds.  "Fur  more'n  a  hundred  y«'ars  the  wo- 
men uv  our  f:un*iy  hcv  run  all  tlir  liiillrt<  our  men- 
folksshol.  TIm'v  h'lioved  hit  made 'em  huky.  (iran- 
father  Foitnci-  killed  an  Injun  chief  aerost  the  Mau- 
mee  River  at  tin-  battle  of  Fallen  Timbcis  with  a 
bullet  thct  Granmother  bed  run  fur  him  an'  markt 
with  a  little  cross.  Afore  the  battle  lu'L'un  (iran- 
father  tuck  the  bullet  outen  his  pouch  an'  put  hit 
inter  his  mouth,  until  he  could  prit  a  chance  ter  use 
hit  on  biix  iram*'.  He  brot  the  chiefs  scalp  hum  ter 
Granmother." 

"  I  believe  the  bullets  you  cast  for  me  will  do 
jjood  service,"  said  Harry,  with  sincerity  in  his 
tonc<. 

"  I'm  sartin  of  hit,"  she  returned,  confidently. 
"I  hev  adopted  ye  in  my  heart  ez  a  son,  an'  I  feel  to 
wards  ye  ez  ef  ye  were  raylly  uv  my  own  kin.  I 
know  ye'U  be  a  credit  to  yerself  an'  me." 

While  the  lead  was  meltinfr  upon  the  bed  of  coals 
she  drew  out  on  the  hearth,  she  sat  in  her  low  chair 
with  her  hands  clasped  about  her  knees,  and  her  great 
gray  eyes  fixed  upon  the  depths  of  a  ma.ss  of  glowing 
embers  in  the  fireplace,  as  if  .she  saw  there  vivid  pic- 
tures of  the  past  or  revelations  of  the  future. 

"How  wonderfully  bright  an' glowin'  hit  is  in 
thar,"  she  said  musingly  ;  "  hit's  purer  an'  brighter 
then  ennything  else  on  arth.  'Purified  ez  by  fire,' 
the  Book   says.      My  God,  Thou  has  sent  Thy  fires 


THE     AMBUSCADE.  200 

upon  me  ez  a  sweepin'  flood.  Hev  they  purified  me 
ez  Thou  wisht  ?  How  hit  shines  an'  glows  away  in 
thar!  Hit  seems  so  deep  sometimes  thet  I  kin 
skeercely  see  the  eend.  A  million  times  purer  an' 
brighter  is  the  light  thet  shines  from  the  Throne  uv 
God.  They're  lookin'  at  thet  now,  while  I  still  tarry 
hcah.  Husband  an'  son,  when  will  I  go  to  ye? 
When  will  I  finish  the  work  the  Lord  hez  fur  me  ter 
do  ?  When  will  the  day  uv  my  freedom  come  ?  May- 
be to-morrer  —  may-be  to-morrer." 
She  began  singing  softly  : 


"  An'  when  a  shadder  falls  acrost  the  winder 

Of  my  room, 
When  I  am  workiu'  my  app'inted  task, 
I  lift  my  head  to  watch  the  door  an'  ask 

If  lie  is  come; 
An'  the  angel  answers  sweetly 

In  my  home: 
'  Only  a  few  more  shadders 

An"  He  will  come.'" 

*'  Aunt  Debby,  honey,"  said  Fortner,  rousing 
himself  from  a  nap  in  his  chair,  "thet  thar  lead's 
burnin'.     Better  run  yer  bullets." 

She  started  as  if  waked  from  a  trance,  pressed 
her  slender  thin  hands  to  her  eyes  for  an  instant,  and- 
then  taking  the  molds  up  in  her  left  hand  she  raised 
the  ladle  with  her  right,  filled  them  from  it,  knocked 
the  molded  balls  out  by  a  tap  on  the  floor,  and  repeated 
the  process  with  such  dexterous  quickness  that  she 
had  made  fifty  bullets  before  Harry  realized  that  she 
was  fairly  at  work. 


210  THE     RED   ACORN. 

''  Ye  men  hed  better  lay  down  an' git  some  sleep," 
she  said,  as  she  replaced  the  molds  and  ladle  on  the 
shelf.  ''  Ye'll  need  all  yer  strennfth  to-morrer.  Til 
neck  these  bullets,  an'  git  togctiier  some  vittles  fur  the 
trip,  an'  then  I'll  lay  down  a  while.  We  orter  start 
airly — soon  arter  daybreak." 

They  did  start  early  the  next  mornino:,  with  Aunt 
Debby  riding  upon  the  roads  that  wound  around  the 
mountain  sides,  while  Fortner  led  the  men  through 
the  shorter  by-paths. 

Noon  had  passed  some  hours,  and  yet  they  had 
comea(ross  no  signs  of  wagons.  Aunt  Debby  was 
riding  along  a  road  cut  out  of  the  rocks  about  mid- 
way up  the  mountain.  To  her  right  the  descent  was 
almost  peq^endiiular  for  a  hundred  feet  or  more  to 
where  a  creek  ran  at  the  bottom  of  a  cliff.  To  her 
left  the  hill  rose  up  !«teeply  to  a  great  bight.  Fort- 
ner  and  the  others  were  threading  their  way  through 
the  brush  some  distance  above  her,  and  keej)ing  her 
in  view  as  well  as  the  bushes  and  trees  would  permit. 
Suddenlv  there  amse  from  the  road  the  sound  of  rral- 
loping  hoofs.  L#eaning  forward  to  get  a  better  view 
Fortner  and  the  others  saw  Aunt  Dol)by  galloping 
back,  waving  the  red  handkerchief  which  was  her  sig- 
nal of  the  approach  of  a  wagon.  After  her  galloped 
a  Rebel  Sergeant,  with  revolver  drawn  shouting  to 
her  to  stop  or  he  would  fire.  Abe  Bolton  stepped 
forward  impulsively  to  shoot  the  Rebel,  missed  his 
footing,  and  slid  down  the  hill,  landing  in  the  road 
with  such  force  as  to  jar  into  unintelligibility  a  bitter 
imprecation  he  had  constructed  for  the  emergency. 
lie  struck  in  front  of  the  Sergeant,  who  instantly  fired 


THE     AMBUSCADE.  211 

at  Aunt  Debby's  mare,  sending  a  bullet  through  the 
faithful  animal,  which  sank  to  her  knees,  and  threw 
her  rider  to  the  ground.  Without  waitinsf  to  rise, 
and  he  wits  not  certain  that  he  could,  Abe  fired  his 
musket,  l)ut  missed  both  man  and  horse.  He  scrani- 
l)led*to  his  feet,  and  ran  furiously  at  the  Rebel  with 
raised  gun.  The  Sergeant  fired  wildly  at  him,  when 
liolton  struck  the  animal  a  violent  blow  across  the 
head.  It  recoiled,  slii)ped,  and  in  another  instant  had 
fallen  over  the  side  of  the  road,  and  crushed  his  rider 
on  the  rocks  below.  Five  of  the  wagon-guard  who 
were  riding  ahead  of  the  wagon  gallojicd  forward  at 
the  sound  of  the  shots.  Fortner,  Edwards  and  Harry 
Glen  fired  into  these,  and  three  saddles  were  emptied. 
The  remaining  two  men  whirled  their  horses  around, 
tired  wildly  into  the  air,  and  dashed  back  upon  the 
plunging  team,  with  which  the  driver  was  vainly 
struggling.  The  ground  quivered  as  the  frightened 
animals  struck  together;  they  were  crushed  back 
upon  their  haunches,  and  beat  one  another  cruelly  with 
their  mighty  hoofs.  Wagon,  horses  and  men  reeled 
on  the  brink  an  agonizing  instant ;  the  white-faced 
driver  dropped  the  lines  and  sprang  to  the  secure 
ground  ;  the  riders  strained  with  the  energy  of  deadly 
fear  to  tear  themselves  loose  from  their  steeds,  but  in 
vain.  Then  the  frantic  mass  crashed  down  the  jagged 
rocks,  tearing  up  the  stunted  cedars  as  if  they  were 
weeds,  and  fell  with  a  sounding  splash  on  the  lime- 
stone bed  of  the  shallow  creek. 

Fortner,  Glen,  and  Edwards  came  down  as  quickly 
as  possible,  the  latter  spraining  his  ankle  badly  by 
making  a  venturesome  leap  to  reach  the  road  first. 


212  THE    RED    ACORN. 

The\'  found  the  man  that  Fortner  liad  shot  at  stone 
dead,  with  a  bullet  through  his  temple.  The  other 
two  had  been  struck  in  the  body.  Their  horses  stood 
near,  looking  wonderingly  at  their  prostrate  mas- 
ters. 

Bolton  was  rubbing  his  bruises  and  abrasions,  and 
vitui)erating  everything,  from  the  conduct  of  the  war 
to  tlie  steepness  of  Kentucky  mountains.  Aunt 
Debby  had  partially  recovere«l  from  the  stunning  of 
her  fall,  and  limped  slowly  up,  with  her  long  riding- 
skirt  raised  by  one  hand.  Her  lips  were  compressed, 
and  iier  great  gray  eyes  blazed  with  excitement. 

Tliey  all  went  to  the  side  of  the  road,  and  looked 
down  at  the  crushed  and  bleeding  mass  in  the  creek. 

"My  Gcxl  I  that's  awful,"  said  Harry,  with  a 
rising  sickness  a]>out  his  heart,  as  the  excitement  be- 
gan subsiding. 

''Plenty  good  enuf  fur  -touiKlrcI^  who  rob  poor 
men  of  all  they  hev,"  said  Fortner  fiercely,  as  he  re- 
loadecl  his  rifle.  "  Hit's  not  bad  enuf  fur  thieves  an' 
robbers." 

"  Hit's  God's  judgment  on  the  wicked  an'  the  op- 
pressor,'' said  Aunt  Debby,  with  solemn  pitiless- 
ness. 

"Hadn't  we  better  try  to  get  down  tiiere,  and 
lielp  those  men  out  ?"  suggested  Harry.  "Perhaps 
they  are  not  dead  yet." 

*' Aunt  Debby,  thet  thar  boss  thet's  raisin'  his  head 
an'  whinny  in',"  said  Fortner,  with  sudden  interest, 
"is  Joel  Spriggs's  roan  geldin',  sho's  yore  bo'n, 
honey."  He  pointed  to  where  a  shapely  head  was 
raised,  and  almost  human  agony  looked  out  of  great 


THE    AMBUSCADE  213 

liquid  eyes.  "Thetwuz  the  finest  hoss  in  Laurel 
County,  an'  they've  stole  "im  from  Joel.  HitUl  'bout 
break  his  heart,  fur  he  set  a  powerful  sight  o'  store 
on  thet  ere  beast.  Pore  critter  I  hit  makes  me  sick 
ter  see  'im  suffer  thet-a-way  !  I've  a  mind  ter  put 
'im  outen  his  misery,  but  I'm  afcercd  I  can't  shoot 
'im,  so  long  ez  he  looks  at  me  with  them  big  pitiful 
eyes  o'  his'n.     They  go  right  ter  my  heart." 

*' You'd  better  shoot  him,'' urged  Aunt  Debby. 
"Hit's  a  sin  ter  let  an  innercent  critter  suffer  thet-a- 
way." 

Fortncr  raised  his  rifie,  and  sent  a  bullet  through 
the  mangled  brute's  brain. 

Aunt  Dcbby's  eyes  became  fixed  on  a  point  where, 
a  mile  away  down  the  mountain,  a  bend  in  the  road 
was  visil)Ie  through  an  opening  in  the  trees. 

**Look  out,"  she  said,  as  the  echoes  of  the  shot 
died  away,  "  thar  comes  a  hull  lot  on  'em." 

They  looked  and  saw  plainly  a  large  squad  of  cav- 
alry, with  a  wagon  behind. 

"We  must  get  outen  hcah,  an'  thet  quick,"  said 
Forlner  decisively.  He  caught  one  of  the  horses, 
and  shortened  a  stirrup  to  make  the  saddle  answer 
for  a  side-saddle.  "  Heah,  Aunt  Debby,  let  me  help 
ye  up,  honey.  Now  Bolton  and  Edwards,  I'll  help 
ye  on  these  ere  other  critters.  Now  skeet  out  ez  fast 
ez  the  bosses'  legs  will  tote  ye.  Don't  spar  'em  a 
mite.  Them  fellers'll  gin  ye  the  devil's  own  chase  ez 
soon  ez  they  git  heah,  an'  see  what's  bin  done.  Glen 
and  me'll  go  acrost  the  mounting,  an'  head  'em  off 
on  t'other  side.  Don't  come  back  ef  ye  heah  shootin', 
but  keep  straight  on,  fur  we  kin  take  keer   o'  this 


914  THE    RED    ACORN. 

crowd  without  enny  help.  Glon,  you  sasshay  up  the 
mounting  thar  ez  fast  ez  the  Lord'H  let  ye.  Til  bo 
arter  ye  right  spry." 

All  sped  away  as  directed.  Fortnor  had  i)eon 
loading  his  gun  while  speaking.  He  now  rammed  the 
bullet  h()m(\  and  withdrawing  his  rammer  walked  over 
to  the  elirt*  beside  whieh  the  teamster  was  cowering. 

"O,  Mister  Fortner.  don't  kill  me— plejtsc  don't  I  " 
whined  the  luckless  man,  getting  awkwardly  uj)(>n  iiis 
knees,  and  raising  his  hands  implorinirly.  '•  I  sw.ii- 
ter  God  I'll  never  raise  a  hajid  agin  a  Union  man  agin 
ef  ye'll  only  spar  my  life." 

"Kill  ye,  Pete  Iloskins  !  "  said  Fortner  with  un- 
fathomable contempt.  ''  What  consetc  ye  hev  ter 
think  yer  wuth  the  powder  an'  lead.  I  hain't  no  l)ul- 
lots  ter  waste  on  caiT'on." 

He  struck  the  abject  fellow  a  couple  of  stinginir 
blows  on  the  face  with  the  ramrod,  replaced  it  in  the 
thimbles,  and  sprang  up  the  rocks  just  as  the  head  of 
the  cavalry  appeared  around  the  bend  of  the  road  a 
few  rods  away. 

Overtaking  Harry  shortly,  he  heard  about  the  same 
time  the  Rebels  on  the  road  below  strike  into  a 
trot. 

''They  know  hit  all  now,"  he  said,  "an'  hev 
started  in  chase.  Let's  jog  on  lively,  an'  get  ter  whar 
we  kin  head  'em  off." 

Night  had  fallen  in  the  meantime,  but  the  full 
moon  had  risen  immediately,  making  it  almost  as 
light  as  day. 

After  half  an  hour's  fast  walking,  the  two  Union- 
ists ha<l  cut  across  the  lon<r  hor-^eshoe  around  which 


THE    AMBUSCADE.  215 

the  Rebels  were  traveling,  and  had  come  down  nuich 
ahead  of  them  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountain,  and 
just  wliore  tlie  road  led  up  the  steep  ascent  of  another 
mountain. 

There  was  a  loneliness  about  the  spot  that  was 
terrible.  Over  it  hung  the  '*  thought  and  deadly  feel 
of  solitude."  The  only  break  for  miles  in  the  prime- 
val forest  was  that  made  for  the  narrow  road.  House 
or  cabin  there  was  none  in  all  the  gloomy  reaches  of 
rocks  and  gnarled  trees.  It  was  too  inhospitable  a 
region  to  tempt  even  the  wildest  squatter. 

The  flood  of  moonlight  made  the  desolation  more 
oppressive  than  ever,  by  making  palpable  and  sug- 
gestive the  inky  abysses  under  the  trees  and  in  the 
thickets. 

Fortner  lo()ko(l  up  the  road  to  his  right  and 
listened  intently. 

A  waterfall  mumbled  somewhere  in  the  neighl)or- 
hood.  The  pines  and  hemlocks  near  the  summit 
sighed  drearil}'.  A  gray  fox,  which  had  probably 
just  sui)ped  oil*  a  phea.sant,  sat  on  a  log  and  barked  out 
his  gluttonous  satisfaction.  A  wildcat,  as  yet  supper- 
less,  screamed  its  envy  from  a  clift'  half  a  mile  away. 

"I  can't  hcah  anything  of  Aunt  Debby  an"  the 
others,"  said  Fortner,  at  length  ;  "  so  I  reckon  they're 
clean  over  the  mounting,  an'  bout  safe  by  this  time. 
Them  beasts  are  purty  good  travelers,  I  imagine,  an' 
they  hain't  let  no  grass  grow  in  under  the'r  hufs." 

"But  the  Rebels  are  coming,  hand  over  hand," 
said  Harry,  who  had  been  watching  to  the  left  and 
listening.  "I  hear  them  now  quite  plainly.  Yes, 
there  they  are,"  he  continued,  as  two  or  three  gal- 


216  THK    RED   ACORN. 

loped  around  a  turn  in  the  road,  followed  at  a  little 
interval  by  others. 

Tiie  metallic  clang  of  the  rapid  hoof-beats  on  the 
rocks  rang  through  tjie  somber  aisles  of  the  forest. 
Noisy  fox  and  antiphonal  wildcat  stopped  to  listen  to 
this  inva-ion  of  sound. 

"Quick  !  let 's  get  in  cover,"  said  Fortner. 

"  Ye  make  fur  thet  rock  up  thar,"  said  Fortner  to 
Harry,  pointing  to  a  spot  several  hundred  yards 
above  them,  ''and  stay  thar  tell  I  come.  Keep  close 
in  the  shadder,  so's  they  won't  see  ye." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  I  ought  to  stay  with  you," 
said  Harry,  indecisively. 

'*  No  ;  go.  Ye  can't  do  no  good  heah.  One  'a 
better  nor  two.    I  '11  be  up  thar  soon.     Go,  quick." 

There  was  no  time  for  debate,  and  Harry  did  as 
bidden. 

Fortner  stepped  into  the  inky  shadow  of  a  large 
rock,  against  which  he  leaned.  The  great  broad  face 
of  the  rock,  gray  from  its  covering  of  minute  a^h- 
colored  lichens,  was  toward  the  pursuers,  and  shone 
white  as  marble  in  the  flood  of  moonlight.  The  dark- 
ness seemed  banked  up  around  him.  but  within  his 
arm's  length  it  was  as  light  as  day.  The  long  rifle 
barrel  reached  from  the  darkness  into  the  light,  past 
the  corner  of  the  rock  against  which  it  rested.  The 
bright  rays  made  the  little  "bead"  near  the  muzzle 
gleam  like  a  diamond,  and  lighted  up  the  slit  as  fine 
as  a  hair  in  the  hind-sight.  Three  little  clicks,  as  if  of 
twigs  breaking  under  a  rabbit's  foot,  told  that  the 
triggers  had  been  set  and  the  hammer  raised. 

The   horsemen,   much   scattered   by  the   pursuit, 


THE     AMBUSCADE.  217 

clattered  onward.  In  ones  ami  twos,  with  wide  inter- 
vals between,  they  reached  along  a  half  mile  of  the 
road.  Two — the  best  mounted—  rode  together  at  the 
head.  Two  hundred  yards  below  the  great  white 
rock,  which  shone  as  innocent  and  kindly  as  a  Heecy 
Summer  cloud,  a  broad  rivulet  wound  its  way  toward 
the  neighboring  creek.  The  blown  horses  scented  the 
grateful  water,  and  checked  down  to  drink  of  it.  The 
right-hand  rider  loosened  his  bridle  that  his  steed 
might  gratify  himself.  The  other  tightened  his  rein 
and  struck  with  his  spurs.  His  horse  ''gathered," 
and  leaped  across  the  stream.  As  the  armed  hoofs 
struck  sparks  from  the  smooth  stones  on  the  opposite 
side,  the  rider  of  the  drinking  horse  saw  burst  out  of 
the  white  rock  above  them  a  gray  cloud,  with  a  cen- 
trd  tongue  of  flame,  and  his  comrade  fall  to  the 
ground. 

His  immediate  reply  with  both  barrels  of  his  shot- 
gun showed  that  he  did  not  mistake  this  for  any 
natural  phenomenon.  The  sound  of  the  shots  brought 
the  rest  up  at  a  gallop,  and  a  rapid  tire  was  opened  on 
the  end  of  the  rock. 

But  the  instant  Fortner  fired  he  sprang  back 
behind  the  rock,  and  then  ran  under  its  cover  a  little 
distance  up  the  mountain  side  to  a  dense  laurel  thicket, 
in  which  he  laid  down  behind  a  log  and  reloaded  his 
rifle.  He  listened.  The  firing  had  ceased,  and  a  half- 
dozen  dismounted  men  were  carefully  approaching 
the  spot  whence  he  had  sent  the  fatal  shot.  He  heard 
the  Captain  order  a  man  to  ride  back  and  bring  uj) 
tiie  wagon,  that  the  body  of  the  dead  man  might  be 
put  in  it.  As  the  wagon  was  heard  rumbling  up,  the 
10 


218  Tin:  kkd  ajokn. 

dismounted  men  reported  to  the  Captain  that  tlic 
bushwhacker  had  made  ^rood  liis  cscajx'  and  was  no 
lonfrer  behind  tiie  rock. 

"Well,  he  has  n't  nrone  verv  far,"  said  tlie  Captain, 
with  a  sava*re  oath.  '"Ho  can't  have  got  any  distance 
away,  and  I  '11  have  him.  dead  or  alive,  before  I  leave 
this  spot.  The  whole  giiu*^  of.Lincolnite  hellhounds 
are  treed  right  up  there,  and  not  one  of  them  sh.all 
get  away  alive."  He  put  a  l)one  whistle  to  his  lips, 
and  sounded  a  shrill  signal.  A  horseman  trotted  up 
from  the  rear  in  response  to  the  call,  leading  a  ho»m<l 
with  a  leash.  "Take  the  dog  up  to  that  rock,  there. 
Bill,"  said  the  Captain,  ''and  si't  him  on  that  devil's 
trail.  Five  more  of  you  dismount,  and  deploy-  there 
on  the  other  side  of  the  road.  All  of  you  move  for- 
ward cautiously,  watching  the  <log,  and  make  sure 
you  'save  '  the  whelp  Whou  he  is  run  out." 

The  men  left  their  saddles  and  m(»ved  forward 
with  manifest  reluctance.  They  had  the  highly  emo- 
tional nature  usual  in  the  iX)or  white  of  the  South, 
and  this  was  deeply  depressed  l)y  the  weird  loneliness 
that  bnxMled  over  everything,  and  the  bloodshed  they 
had  witnessed.  Their  thirst  for  venireance  w.-is  l)einnr 
tempered  rapidly  by  a  growing  superstitious  fear. 
There  was  something  suix^matural  in  these  mysteri- 
ous killings.  Each  man,  therefore,  only  moved  for- 
ward as  he  felt  the  Captain's  eye  on  him,  or  his  com- 
rades advanced. 

The  dog.  after  some  false  starts,  got  the  scent,  and 
started  to  follow  Fortner's  footsteps. 

"  He's  done  tuck  the  trail,  Cap'n."  called  back  one 
of  the  men. 


THE    AMBUSCADE.  210 

"All  riirht,"  answered  the  otiicor,  "don't  take 
your  eyes  oti"  of  him  for  a  second  till  he  trees  the 
game." 

But  the  logs  and  the  rocks  and  the  impenetrahle 
darkness  in  the  shadows  made  it  impossible  to  follow 
the  movements  of  the  hound  every  moment.  Only 
Fortner  was  able  to  do  this.  lie  could  see  the  great 
greeni>h-yellow  eyes  burn  in  the  pitchy  depths  and 
steadily  draw  nearer  him.  They  entered  the  laurel 
thicket,  and  the  beast  gr()wle<l  as  he  felt  the  nearness 
of  his  prey. 

"  Wolf  must  be  gittin  close  ter  him,"  said  one  of 
the  men. 

Fortner  laid  his  ritle  acro.ss  the  log,  and  drew  from 
his  belt  a  long  keen  knife.  He  stirred  slightly  in  do- 
ing this,  and  in  tuming  to  confront  the  dog.  The 
hound  sprang  forward  with  a  growl  that  was  abruptly 
ended,  for  Fortner's  left  hand  shot  out  like  an  arrow, 
and  caught  the  loose  folds  of  skin  on  the  brute's  neck, 
and  the  next  instant  his  right,  armed  with  the  knife, 
descended  and  laid  the  animal's  shoulder  and  neck 
open  with  a  long  deep  cut.  But  the  darkness  made 
Fortner  mistake  his  distance.  lie  neither  caught  the 
dog  securely,  nor  sent  the  knife  to  his  heart,  as  ho  in- 
tended, and  the  hound  tearing  away,  ran  out  into  the 
moonlight,  bleeding  and  yeli)ing.  Before  he  reached 
his  human  allies  Fortner  had  silently  sped  back  a 
hundred  yards,  to  a  more  secure  shelter,  so  that  the 
volley  which  was  poured  into  the  thicket  only  endan- 
gered the  lives  of  the  chij^munks  denizened  there. 
The  mounted  men  rode  forward  and  joined  those  on 
foot,  in  raking  the  copse  with  charges  of  buck-shot. 


220  THE    RED    ACORN. 

Away  ab<)ve  Fortiu'i-  and  Harrv  rose  yoll-.  and  tlic 
clatter  of  frall()pin<2:  horses.  Before  they  could  imag- 
ine what  tins  meant  a  little  cavalcade  swept  by  at  a 
mad  ufalloj),  yelling  at  the  tops  of  their  voices,  and 
charginir  directly  at  the  Hchcis  below.  In  front  were 
Aunt  Dcbby,  Bolt<m  and  Kdwanls.  riding  abreji.st,  and 
behind  them  three  men  in  homespun. 

The  Rebels  .'icemed  totally  unnerved  by  this  start- 
ling apparition.  The  dismounted  ones  tlung  them- 
selves on  their  horses  and  all  tied  away  at  a  gallop, 
without  attempting  to  make  a  stand  and  without 
taking  thought  of  their  wagon.  As  they  .scurried 
along  the  opposite  mountain-side  Fortncr  and  Harry 
tired  at  them,  but  without  being  able  to  tell  whether 
their  shots  took  effect. 

The  pursuit  was  carried  but  a  little  distance.  The 
wagon  was  .secured  and  taken  up  the  mountain.  A 
little  after  midnight  the  sunnnit  was  passed,  and  Fort- 
ner  led  the  way  into  an  opening  to  the  right,  which 
eventually  brought  up  at  a  little  level  s|X)t  in  front  of 
a  large  cave.  The  horses  were  unhitched  and  unsad- 
dled, a  fire  built,  cedar  boughs  gathered  to  make  a  bed 
on  the  rocky  floor  of  the  cave,  and  they  threw  them- 
selves down  upon  this  to  sleep  the  sleep  of  utter 
weariness. 

In  the  meantime  Harry  had  learned  that  the  new 
comers  were  cousins  of  Fortner'.s,  who,  l)eing  out  on 
a  private  scouting  expedition,  had  been  encountered 
by  Aunt  Debby  and  the  others,  near  the  summit  of 
the  mountain,  and  had  started  back  with  them  to  the 
assistance  of  Fortner.     The  sound  of  firins:  had  8o 


THE     AMBUSCADE.  221 

excited  them  that  the  .suggestion  of  a  charge  by  Kent 
Edwards  was  eagerl}-  acceded  to. 

"It  must  be  near  three  o'clock,"  said  Kent, 
looking  up  at  the  stars,  as  he  came  back  stealthily 
from  laying  the  saddle  blanket,  which  was  the  only 
covering  he  and  Abe  had,  upon  the  sleeping  form  of 
Aunt  Debby,  "and  my  downy  couch  still  waits  for 
me.  My  life-long  habits  of  staid  respectal)ility  have 
been  gi-oatly  shaken  recently." 

Abe  groaned  derisively. 

An  inspection,  the  next  morning,  of  the  wagon's 
load,  showed  it  to  be  mainly  made  up  of  hams,  shoul- 
ders and  sides,  plundered  from  the  smokehouses 
visited.  With  these  were  a  number  of  guns,  includ- 
ing several  fine  rifles,  and  all  the  ammunition  that 
could  be  found  along  the  route. 

A  breakfast  was  made  of  slices  of  ham  broiled 
on  the  ends  of  sticks,  and  then  a  consultation  was 
held  as  to  the  plans  for  the  day's  operations. 

The  result  of  this  wa.s  a  decision  that  Aunt  Debl)y 
and  one  of  the  newcomers  should  go  back  and  inform 
the  neighborhood  of  what  had  taken  place,  gather  a 
party  to  remove  the  dead  from  the  creek  and  bury 
them,  to  keep  the  water  from  being  poisoned,  and 
recover  wliat  property  might  be  found  with  the  first 
wagon.  Kent  Edwards,  Abe  Bolton,  and  two  of  the 
new  comers  would  scout  down  toward  London,  to 
ascertain  the  truth  of  the  nimor  that  Zollicotfer  had 
evacuated  that  place,  and  retired  to  Laurel  Bridge, 
nine  miles  south  of  it.  Fortner  and  Harry  Glen 
would  take  the  wagon  to  Wildcat  Gap,  report  what 


222  THE    RED    ArOFiX. 

Ii.ul  heon  done,  aiifl  expl:iin  to  their  commander  the 
absence  of  the  enlisted  men. 


''  Shade  of  Kinir  Solomon,"  said  Kent  to  Abe, 
after  their  party  had  riiMcn  for  two  or  three  horn's 
fhroii^rh  the  nioinitains  toward  London.  "  I  wonder 
if  there  is  any  other  kind  of  worldly  knowledi^e  that 
I  know  as  little  about  as  I  did  ot  .seoutinjr  when  we 
>lMrted  out  i  My  eyes  have  been  opened  to  my  own  igno- 
rance. I  used  to  have  the  conceit  that  we  two  eonld 
)»Iay  a  f  lir  hand  at  any  «rame  of  war  they  eoiild  «jfet  up 
for  onr  ent«'rtainment.  But  the.se  Kenluekians  <rive 
me  points  every  hundred  yards  that  I  never  so  much 
as  dreamed  of  Theirs  is  the  wisdom  of  serjwnts 
when  compared  with  our. dove-like  innocence." 

''  I  like  dove-like  innocence,"  interrupted  Abe. 

"Hut  did  you  ever  see  anybody  that  could  iro 
through  the  country  as  these  fellows  can  ?  It's  just 
marvelous.  They  know  every  .short  cut  to  every 
jioint,  and  they  know  just  where  to  go  every  time  to 
see  away  ahead  without  bemg  seen  themselves.  It 
would  puzzle  the  sharpest  Rebel  bushwhacker  to  get 
the  drop  on  them." 

"I  don't  know  as  I  want  to  learn  their  w.iy  of 
doing,"  said  Abe  crustily.  "It  looks  like  sneaking, 
<m  a  big  scale,  that's  all.  And  I'm  ashamed  of  this 
laying  round  behind  a  log  or  a  rock  to  pop  a  man 
over.  It  ain't  my  style  at  all.  I  believe  in  open  and 
above  board  fighting,  give  and  take,  and  may  the  best 
man  win.'' 


THE     AMBUSCADE.  223 

"  So  do  I,  though  I  bTippose  all's  fair  in  war.  But 
when  we  scout  we  give  them  the  same  chance  to 
knock  us  over  that  they  give  us  when  they  scout, 
ril  admit  it  looks  very  much  like  murder  to  shoot 
men  down  that  way,  for  it  does  not  help  either  side 
along  a  particle.  But  these  Kentuckians  have  a  great 
many  private  injuries  to  avenge,  and  they  can't  do  it 
any  other  way," 

All  the  people  of  the  region  wore  intensely  Union, 
so  it  was  not  dilBcult  to  get  exact  information  of  the 
movements  of  the  Kel)els,  and  as  the  scouts  drew 
near  London  they  became  assured  that  not  only  all 
of  ZollicollVr's  infantry,  but  his  small  parties  of  cav- 
alry had  retreated  beyond  the  town.  Our  scouts 
therefore,  putting  Edwards  and  Bolton  to  the  front, 
that  their  blue  uniforms  might  tell  the  character  of 
the  party,  spurred  into  a  gallop,  and  dashed  into  Lon- 
don, to  be  received  with  boundless  enthusiasm. 

"Somebody  ought  to  ride  back  to  Wildcat  imme- 
diately," said  Kent,  after  they  liad  enjoyed  their  re- 
ception a  little  while,  '"and  report  this  to  the  Gen- 
eral." 

All  assented  to  this  proposition. 

"It  is  really  the  duty  of  myself  and  comrade  here 
to  do  it,"  said  Kent,  shifting  uneasily  in  his  chair,  to 
find  a  comfortable  place  to  sit  upon;  "but  as  we 
have  been  for  two  days  riding  the  hardest-backed 
horses  over  roads  that  were  simply  awful,  and  as  pre- 
vious to  that  time  we  had  not  taken  any  equestrian 
exercise  for  several  years,  there  are  some  fundamen- 
tal reasons — that  is,  reasons  lying  at  the  very  base  of 
tilings,  (he  shifted  again)  —  why  we  should  not  be 


224  THE    RED    ACOIIN. 

called  upon  to  do  another  mile  of  horseback  riding 
until  Time  has  had  an  opportunity  to  exercise  his 
soothing  and  healing  influence,  so  to  speak.  Abe,  I 
believe  I  have  stnted  the  case  with  my  usual  happy 
combination  of  grace  and  delicacy  ? '' 

"You  have,  as  usual,  flushed  a  tail-race  of  big 
words." 

"Tn  short,"  Kent  went  on.  ("Ah,  thank  you. 
That  is  delicious.  The  best  I  ever  drank.  Your 
mountain  stills  make  the  finest  apple  jack  in  the  world. 
There  must  be  something  in  the  water — that  you  don't 
put  in.  It's  a.s  smooth  as  new-made  butter.  Well, 
here's  to  the  Banner  of  Beauty  and  Glory.)  In 
short,  as  I  wjis  saying  when  you  hospital)ly  inter- 
rupted me,  we  are  willing  to  do  anytliing  for  the 
cause,  but  unless  there  is  some  other  way  of  riding, 
the  most  painful  clTort  J  could  make  for  our  beloved 
country  would  be  to  mount  that  horse  again,  and  ride 
anotlier  lunnlred  yards.  To  be  messenger  of  this 
good  news  would  Ije  bliss ;  what  urevents  it  is  a 
blister." 

The  crowd  laughed  boisterously. 

"Mister,"  said  one  of  the  Kentuckians  who  ac- 
companied them,  with  that  peculiar  drawling  inflec- 
tion of  the  word  that  it  were  ho|Xiless  to  attempt  to 
represent  in  print,  *'ef  ye  want  ter  .send  some  one  in 
yer  places  me  an'  Si  heah  will  be  powerful  glad  ter 
go.  Jes'  git  a  note  ter  the  Jineral  at  Wildcat  ready 
while  we  saddle  fresh  beasts,  an'  we'll  hev  hit  in  his 
hands  afore  midnight." 

The  proposition  was  immediately  accepted,  and  in 
a  little  while  the  Kentuckians  were  speeding  their  way 


THE     AMBUSCADH.  M5 

back  to  Gen.  Schoepf.  with  a  letter  giving  the  news, 
and  signed  :   •'  Kent  Edwards,  Chief  of  Scouts/' 

That  evening  a  party  of  young  men  who  had  fol- 
lowed the  Rebel  retreat  some  distance,  brousrht  in  a 
wagon  which  had  been  concealed  in  an  out-of-the-way 
place,  and  left  there.  It  was  loaded  mainly  with 
things  taken  from  the  houses,  and  was  evidently  the 
private  collection  of  some  freebooting  subordinate, 
who  did  not  intend  that  the  Southern  Confederacy 
should  be  enriched  by  the  property.  Hence,  prob- 
ably, the  hesitation  about  taking  it  along  with  the 
main  train.  It  was  handed  over  to  Kent  as  the  rep- 
resentative of  the  United  States,  who  was  alone  au 
thorized  to  take  charge  of  it.  Assisted  by  Abe  he 
>^tarted  to  make  an  inventory  of  its  contents.  A 
portly  jug  of  applejack  was  kept  at  hand,  that  there 
might  not  be  any  sutfering  from  undue  thirst  during 
the  course  of  the  operation,  which,  as  Kent  provi- 
dently remarked,  was  liable  to  make  a  man  as  dry  as 
an  Arizona  plain. 

The  danger  of  such  aridity  seemed  to  grow  more 
imminent  continually,  judged  by  the  frequency  of 
their  applications  to  the  jug.  It  soon  became  more 
urgent  than  the  completion  of  the  inventory.  Fre- 
quent visits  of  loyal  Kentuckians  with  other  jugs  and 
bottles,  to  drink  to  the  renewed  supremacy  of  the 
Banner  of  Beauty  and  Glory,  did  not  diminish  Kent's 
and  Abe's  apprehensions  of  ultimate  thirst.  Their 
clay  seemed  like  some  other  kinds,  which  have  their 
absorptive  powers  strengthened  by  the  more  they 
take  up.  They  belonged  to  a  not-unusual  class  of 
men  whom  it  takes  about  as  long  to  get  thoroughly 
P 


226  THE    RED    ACORN. 

drunk  as  it  does  to  lu-at  y\\)  an  iron-furnace,  hut  the 
condition  tliat  thoy  aciiiove  then  makes  the  intoxica- 
tion of  other  and  ordinary  men  seem  a  very  mild  and 
tame  exhilaration. 

By  noon  the  next  day  this  process  was  nearing 
its  completion.  A  mes.senger  gallojwd  into  town 
with  the  information  that  the  Union  forces  were 
coming,  and  would  arrive  in  the  course  of  an  hour  or 
two. 

"Shjishso!'"  said  Kent,  straightening  himself  uj) 
with  a  crushing  dignity  that  always  formed  a  sure 
gauge  of  the  extent  to  which  inehriation  had  pro- 
gressed. "  Sha^h  so  ^  Troop-^  'she  United  Shtates 
'l)()ut  to  enter  shis  lovely  metropolis  wish  all  pomp 
and  shircumshtance  'rea.ssherted  'thority.  'Shton- 
ishin'  event ;  wonderful  'casion.  Never  happenecl 
'fore  ;  prohably  never'll  happen  again.  Ought  to  be 
'propriately  celebrated,  Abe  I" 

That  gentleman  made  a  strong  effort  to  control 
joints  which  seemed  unmanageable,  and  .succeeded  in 
assuming  a  tolerable  erectness,  while  he  blinked  at 
his  companion  with  stolid  gravity. 

'•  Abe,  shis  ish  great  'casion.  Greatest  in  she  an- 
nalsh  of  she  country.  We're  only  represhentatives 
Government  in  she  town.  Burden  whole  shing  fallsh 
on  us.  Undersbtand  i  AVe  musht  do  every.shing. 
Undershtnnd  (  Country  'spects  every  man  to  do  his 
(bity.     Undersbtand  ? 

Abe  sank  down  on  a  bench,  leaned  his  head  against 
the  wall,  and  looked  at  his  companion  with  one  eye 
closed  wearily. 

"Yesshir,"  Kent  resumed,  summoning  up  a  new 


THE     AMBUSCADE.  227 

supply  of  oratorical  energy,  and  an  official  gravity 
beneath  which  his  legs  trembled.  *'  Name  shis  town's 
London.  Shame  name's  big  town  'cross  ocean.  Lots 
history  c'nected  wish  name.  Shtacks  an'  cords  of  it. 
Old  times  when  King  wanted  t'come  t'  s'own  'gain 
Lord  Mayor  went  out  t'meet  him,  wish  shtyle  piled 
on  bigger'n  a  hayshtack.  Fact.  Clothes  tiner'n  a 
peacock.  Tendered  him  keys,  freed'm  city.  All 
shat  short  shing.  Ver'  inipreshive  shpcctacle.  Ev- 
erybody felt  bctter'n  for  imi)rovin'  sight.  Undcr- 
shtand  ?  We'll  be  Lord  Mayor  and  train  for  shis 
London.  We  can  rig  out  right  here.  Onr  trous- 
seau's here  in  shis  hair  trunk." 

''Shall  we  get  anyshing  t'  drink?"  inquired  Abe, 
making  a  temporary  collection  of  his  wits  with  a  vio- 
lent etibrt. 

'•Abe  I"  the  freezing  severity  of  Kent's  tone  and 
manner  would  have  been  hopelessly  fatal  to  early  veg- 
etables. "  Abe  you've  many  good  qualities— more  of 
'em  shan  any  man  I  know.  But  a  degrading  passion 
fur  shtrong  drink  is  ruinin'  you.  I'm  your  besht 
fren,  an'  shay  it  wish  tearsh  in  m'  eyes.  Lemme  beg 
o'  you  t'  reform  ere  it  ish  too  late.  Beware  of  it,  my 
fren,  beware  of  it.  It  shtingeth  like  a  serpent,  an' 
biteth  like  a  multiplier — 1  mean  an  adder.  You 
haven't  got  my  shuperb  self-control,  an'  so  yer  only 
shafety  lies  in  total  abstinence.  Cheese  it,  my  fren, 
cheese  it  on  she  sheductive  but  fatal  lush." 

"Are  we  goin'  out  t'  meet  she  boysh  ? "  inquired 
Abe. 

"Shortainly  we  arc.  Yesshir.  An'  we're  goin' 
out  ash  I  proposed.     Yer  a  shplendid  feller,  Abe," 


f88  TIIE    RED    ACORN. 

continued  Kent,  with  lofty  patronage.  ''A  shplen- 
did  fcUcr,  an'  do  great  credit  t'  yer  'portunitios.  But 
y'  haven't  had  my  Mvantages  of  mingling  constantly 
in  p'lite  s'ciety,  y"  know.  Rough  diamond,  I  know, 
'nail  that  short  o'  .shing,  but  lack  polish  an'  easy 
grace.  So  Fll  be  th'  Lord  Mayor,  an'  y'll  be  th' 
train.     Undershtand  ? " 

He  lurched  forward,  and  came  near  falling  over 
the  chair,  but  recovering  he  stitfcned  up  and  gazed  on 
that  useful  article  of  furniture  with  a  sternness  that 
implied  his  belief  that  it  was  a  rascally  blackleg  try- 
ing to  insinuate  itself  into  the  circle  of  refinement  and 
chaste  elegance  of  which  he  was  the  particular  orna- 
ment. 

''Come,"  he  resumed,  "le's  bedizen  ourselves; 
le's  assume  th'  shplendor  'projiriate  t*  th*  "cation." 

When  the  troops  inarched  in  in  the  afternoon, 
they  encountered  at  the  head  of  the  crowd  that  met 
them  at  the  crossing  of  the  creek  just  outside  of  town, 
a  man  who  seemed  filled  with  deep  emotion,  and 
clothed  with  strange  fancies.  He  wore  a  tall  silk  hat 
of  anticjue  pattern,  carefully  brushed,  which  he  pro- 
tected from  the  rays  of  the  sun  with  a  huge  blue  cot- 
ton umbrella.  A  blue  broadcloth  coat,  with  gilt  but- 
tons, sat  jauntily  over  a  black  satin  vest,  and  nankeen 
trousei-s.  A  pair  of  gold  spectacles  reposed  in  mag- 
isterial dignity  about  half  way  down  his  no.se,  and  a 
lame  >ilver-headed  cane  in  the  left  hand  balanced  the 
umbrella  in  the  right  By  the  .side  of  the  man  with 
rare  vestments  stood  another  figure  of  even  more 
limpness  of  general  bearing,  who.se  garb  consisted  of 
a  soldier's   uniform   pantaloons  and    woolen   shirt — 


THE   ambl:*cai)E.  229 

none  too  clean — set  otf  by  a  black  dress-coat,  and 
white  linen  vest. 

As  the  head  of  the  column  came  up  he  in  the  blue 
broadcloth  pulled  ofl'  his  hat  and  spectacles,  and  ad- 
dressed himself  to  speech : 

''Allow  me,  shir,  to  welcome  you  with  hoshpita- 
ble  hands  to  a  bloody — no,  let  me  tender  you,  shir, 
the  liberties  of  our  city,  and  reshoice  shat  she  old 
banner  which  has  braved  she  battle,  hash "" 

The  column  had  stf)pped,  and  the  Captain  com- 
manding the  advance  was  listening  patiently  to  what 
he  supposed  was  the  address  of  an  enthusiastic,  but 
eccentric  old  Kentuckian,  when  one  of  the  sharp-eyed 
ones  in  the  company  shouted  out : 

''I  declare,  it's  Kent  Edwards  and  Abe  Bolton." 

The  yell  of  laughter  and  ai)i)lausc  at  the  ludicrous 
mas<juerade  shook  the  hills.  The  Colonel  rode  up  to 
see  what  occasioned  it.  He  recognized  his  two  men, 
and  his  face  darkened  with  anger. 

''You  infernal  ra.scals,"  he  shouted,  "you  have 
been  oflf  plundering  houses,  have  you,  in  place  of 
being  with  your  compan}'.  I'll  stop  this  sort  of  thing 
mighty  sudden.  This  regiment  shall  not  degrade 
itself  by  plundering  and  robbing,  if  I  have  to  shoot 
every  man  in  it.  Captain,  arrest  those  men,  and 
kecji  them  in  close  continemont  until  I  can  have  them 
irit'd  and  properly  punished." 


230  THE    RED   ACORN. 


CHAPTKR  XVJl. 

ALSPAUGH    ON    A   BED   OF    PAIN. 

This  Is  the  very  ecstacy  of  love, 
WTiose  violent  property  foredoes  Itself. 
And  leads  the  will  to  despirate  undertakings 
As  often  as  any  passion  under  Heaven 
That  does  aflllet  our  natures.— //uni/«t. 

ENDURANCE  is  nuulo  possible  by  reason  of  the 
element  of  divisibility.  Metaphysical  mathe- 
maticians imagine  that  there  is  j)()ssibly  a ''fourth 
dimension,"  by  the  existence  of  which  many  hitherto 
inexplicable  phenomena  may  be  explained.  They 
think  that  probably  this,  fourth  dimension  is  8ucce,'<8- 
!o7i  of  time. 

So  endurance  of  unendurable  things  is  explainable 
on  the  ground  that  but  a  small  portion  of  them  has  to 
be  endured  in  any  given  space  of  time. 

It  is  the  old  fable  of  the  clock,  whose  pendulum 
and  wheels  stopped  one  day,  appalled  by  the  discov- 
er}' that  they  would  have  to  move  and  tick  over  three 
million  times  a  year  for  many  wearisome  years,  but 
resumed  work  again  when  reminded  that  they  would 
onh'  have  to  tick  once  each  second. 

So  it  was  with  Rachel  Bond. 

The  unendurable  whole  of  a  month's  or  a  week's 
experience  was  endurable  when  divided  in  detail  and 
spread  over  the  hours  and  days. 

She  was  a  woman — young  and  hiofh-natured. 


ALSPAUGH    ON    A    BED    OF    PAIN.  231 

Being  a  woman  she  had  a  martyr-joy  in  affliction 
that  comes-  in  the  guise  of  duty.  Young,  she  enjoyed 
the  usefuhiess  and  importance  attaclied  to  her  work 
in  the  hospital.  High-natured,  she  felt  a  keen  satis- 
faction in  triumphing  over  daily  difficulties  and  obsta- 
cles, even  though  these  were  mainly  her  own  feel- 
ings. 

Though  months  had  gone  by  it  seemed  as  if  no 
amount  of  habituation  could  dull  the  edge  of  the  sick- 
ening disgust  which  continually  assailed  her  senses 
and  womanly  instincts.  The  smells  were  as  nauseat- 
ing, the  sights  as  repulsive,  the  sounds  of  misery  as 
saddening  as  the  day  when  she  first  set  foot  inside  the 
hospital. 

From  throbbing  heart  to  dainty  finger-tip,  every 
fiber  in  her  maidenly  body  was  in  active  rebellion 
while  she  ministered  to  the  rough  and  coarse  men  who 
formed  the  bulk  of  tlie  patients,  and  whose  afflictions 
she  could  not  help  knowing  were  too  frequently  the 
direct  result  of  their  own  sins  and  willful  disobedience 
of  Nature's  laws. 

One  day,  when  flushed  and  Avearied  with  the  peev- 
ish exactions  of  a  hulking  fellow  whose  indisposition 
was  trifling,  she  said  to  Dr.  Denslow  : 

"It  is  distressing  to  find  out  how  much  unmanli- 
ness  there  is  in  apparently  manly  men." 

"Yes,"  answered  the  doctor,  with  his  customary 
calm  philosophy;  "and  it  is  equally  gratifying  to 
find  out  how  much  real  manliness  there  is  in  some 
apparently  unmanly  men.  You  have  been  having  an 
experience  with  some  brawny  subject  ?  " 

"  Yes.     If  the  fellow's   spirit  were   equal   to   his 


232  THE    RED    ACORN. 

bone  and  brawn,  he  would  oVrtop  Julius  Casar.     In- 
stead, he  whimpers  like  a  school-girl." 

"  That's  about  the  way  it  usually  goes.  It  may  be 
that  my  views  are  colored  by  ray  lacking  three  or 
four  inches  of  six  feet,  but  I  am  sometimes  strongly 
inclined  to  believe  that  every  man — big  or  little — is 
given  about  the  same  amount  of  will  or  vital  power, 
and  the  bigger  and  more  lumbering  the  body  he  has 
to  move  with  it,  the  less  he  accomplishes,  and  the 
sooner  it  is  exhausted.  You  hnve  found.  I  Iimvo  no 
doubt,  that  as  a  rule  the  broad-chested,  muscular  six- 
footers,  whose  lives  have  ever  passed  at  hard  work  in 
the  open  air,  groan  and  sigh  incessantly  under  the 
burden  of  minor  afflictions,  worry  every  one  with  their 
querulousness,  moan  for  their  wives,  mothers,  or 
sweethearts,  and  the  comforts  of  the  homes  they  have 
left,  and  linall}^  fret  and  grieve  themselves  into  the 
grave,  while  slender,  soft-muscled  boys  bear  real  dis- 
tress without  a  murmur,  and  survive  sickness  and 
wounds  that  by  all  rules  ought  to  prove  fatal." 

''There  is  certainly  a  good  deal  in  that  ;  l)ut  what 
irritates  me  now  is  a  display  of  querulous  tyranny." 

"Well,  you  know  what  Dr.  Johnson  says  :  'That 
a  sick  man  is  a  scoundrel. '  There  is  a  basis  of  truth 
in  that  apparent  cruelty.  It  is  true  that  'scoundrel' 
is  rather  a  harsh  term  to  apply  to  a  man  whose  moral 
obliquities  have  not  received  the  official  stamp  in  open 
court  by  a  jury  of  his  peers.  The  man  whose  impru- 
dences and  self-indulgences  have  made  his  liver  sloth- 
ful, his  stomach  rebellious,  and  wrecked  his  constitu- 
tion in  other  ways,  may — probably  does  —  become 
an  exasperating  little  tyrant,   full  of  all   manner  of 


ALSPAUGH    ON   A   BED   OF   PAIN.  233 

petty  selfishness,  which  saps  the  comfort  of  others,  as 
acid  vapors  corrode  metals,  but  does  that  make  him 
a  'scoundrel?'  Opinions  var}'.  His  much  endurinu' 
feminine  relatives  would  probal)ly  resent  such  a  query 
with  tearful  indignation,  while  unprejudiced  outsiders 
would  probably  rcpl}'  calmly  in  the  affirmative.'''' 

"  What  is  the  medical  man's  view  ?  "  asked  Rachel, 
much  anmscd  by  this  cool  scrutiny  of  what  people 
are  too  often  inclined  to  regard  as  among  the  ''  inscru- 
table providences." 

"I  don't  speak  in  anything  for  the  profession  at 
large,  but  my  own  private  judgment  is  that  any  man 
is  a  scoundrel  who  robs  others  of  anything  that  is  of 
value  to  them,  and  he  is  none  the  less  so  when  he 
makes  his  aches  and  pains,  mostly  incurred  by  his 
gluttony,  passions  or  laziness,  the  means  of  plunder- 
ing others  of  the  comforts  and  pleasure  which  are 
their  due.'' 

Going  into  the  wards  one  morning,  Rachel  found 
that  Lieutenant  Jacob  Alspaugh  ha<l  been  brought  in, 
suflfering  from  what  the  Surgeon  pronounced  to  be 
"  febrile  symptoms  of  a  mild  type,  from  which  he 
will  no  doubt  recover  in  a  few  days,  with  rest,  quiet 
and  proper  food. 

It  is  possibl}'  worth  while  to  note  the  coincidence 
that  these  symptoms  developed  with  unexpected  sud- 
denness in  the  midst  of  earnest  preparations  by  the 
Army  of  the  Cumberland,  for  a  terrible  grapple  at 
Perryville  with  the  Rebel  Army  of  the  Tennessee. 

Alspaugh  recognized  Rachel  at  once,  much  to  her 
embarrassment,  for  her  jirido  winced  at  playing  the 
rdle  of  nurse  before  an  acquaintance,  especially  when 
10* 


234  Tin:  nv.D  acorn. 

that  acquaintance  was  her  father's  hired-man,  whom 
she  knew  too  well  to  esteem  highly. 

"O,  Miss  Rachel,"  he  groaned,  as  she  came  to  his 
cot  in  response  to  his  earnest  call,  ''  Fm  so  glad  to  see 
you,  for  I'm  the  sickest  man  that  ever  came  into  this* 
liospital.  Nothin'  hut  the  best  o'  care  '11  carry  me 
through,  and  I  know  you  '11  give  it  to  me  for  the 
sake  of  old  times,"  and  Jacob's  face  expressed  to 
his  comrades  the  idea  that  there  had  been  a  time 
■when  his  relations  with  her  had  i)eiMi  exceedingly 
tender. 

Rachel's  face  flushed  at  tlie  impudent  assumj^tion, 
but  she  overcame  the  temptation  to  make  a  snul)l)ing 
answer,  and  replied  quietly: 

"No,  Jacob,  you  are  not  so  sick  as  you  think 
you  are."  ("She  calls  him  'Jacob,'"  audibly  com- 
mented some  of  those  near,  as  if  this  was  a  confirma- 
tion of  Jake's  insinuation.)  "  The  Surgeons  say,"  she 
continued,  "that  your  symj)toms  are  not  at  all  bad, 
and  that  you  '11  bo  up  again  in  a  few  days." 

"O,  them  Doctors  always  talk  that  way.  They're 
the  flintiest-hearted  set  I  ever  see  in  all  my  born  days. 
They're  always  pretending  that  they  don't  believe 
there  is  nothin'  the  matter  with  a  feller.  I  really 
believe  they  'd  a  little  liefer  a  man  \\  die  than  not. 
They  don't  seem  to  take  no  sort  of  interest  in  savin' 
the  soldiers  that  the  country  needs  so  badly." 

Rachel  felt  as  if  it  would  sweeten  much  hard  ser- 
vice if  she  could  tell  Alspaugh  outright  her  opinion, 
that  he  was  acting  verj'  calfishly  ;  but  other  counsels 
prevailed,  and  she  said  encouragingly : 

"You  are  only  discouraged,  Jacob — that's  all.    A 


ALSPAUGH    ON   A   BED   OF   PAIN.  *i35 

few  days  rest  here  will  restore  both  your  health  and 
your  spirits." 

"No,  I'm  not  discouraged.  I'm  not  the  kind  to 
git  down  in  the  mouth  —  you  know  me  well  enough 
for  that.  I'm  sick,  sick  I  tell  you  —  sicker'  n  any 
other  man  in  this  hospital,  an'  notliin'  but  the  best  o' 
nursin"ll  save  my  life  for  the  country.  O,  how  I 
wish  I  was  at  home  with  my  mother  ;  she'd  take  care 
o'  me." 

Rachel  could  not  repress  a  smile  at  the  remem- 
brance of  Jake's  termagant  mother  and  her  dirty, 
comfortless  cottage,  and  how  her  intemperance  in 
administering  such  chastisement  as  conveyed  most 
grief  to  a  boy's  nature  tirst  drove  Jake  to  seek  refuge 
with  her  father. 

"No  doubt  it  would  be  very  comfortable,"  she 
answered,  ''if  you  could  get  home  to  your  mother  ; 
l)ut  there's  no  need  of  it,  because  you'll  be  well  be- 
fore you  could  possibly  reach  there." 

"No,  I  '11  never  be  well,"  persisted  Jake,  "  unless 
I  have  the  best  o'  care  ;  but  I  feel  much  better  now, 
since  I  find  you  here,  for  I  'm  sure  you  '11  take  as 
much  interest  in  me  as  a  sister  would." 

She  shuddered  a  little  at  the  prospect  of  even 
temporary  sisterly  relations  to  the  fellow,  but  replied 
guardedly : 

"Of  course  I'll  do  what  I  can  for  you,  Jacob," 
and  started  to  move  away,  but  he  caught  her  dress 
and  whimpered  : 

"O,  don't  go,  Miss  Rachel  ;  don't  go  and  leave 
me  all  alone.  Stay  any  way  till  I'm  tixed  somehow 
comfortable." 


236  THE    RED    ACORN. 

"I  half  believe  the  booby  will  have  h^'sterics,"" 
thought  Rachel,  with  curling  lip.  ''Is  this  the  man 
they  praised  so  for  his  heroism  i  Doos  all  his  man- 
hood depend  upon  his  health?  Now  he  hasn't  the 
spii-it  of  a  sick  kitten."  Dreading  a  scene,  however, 
she  took  her  seat  at  the  head  of  the  cot,  and  gave 
some  directions  for  its  arrangement 

Jake's  symptoms  grew  worse  rapidly,  for  he  bent 
all  his  crafty  energies  to  that  end.  Refuge  in  the  hos- 
pital from  the  unpleasant  contingencies  attending  duty 
in  the  field  was  a  good  thing,  and  it  l)ecame  superex- 
cellent  when  his  condition  made  him  the  object  of  the 
care  and  synijKithy  of  so  fine  a  young  lady  as  Miss 
Rachel  Bond.  This  he  felt  was  something  like  com- 
pensation for  all  that  he  had  endured  for  the  country, 
and  he  would  get  as  much  of  it  as  p()ssii)le.  His 
mind  busied  itself  in  recalling  and  imitating  the  signs 
of  suffering  lu'  had  soon  in  others. 

lie  breathed  stertorously,  groaned  and  sighed  im- 
moderately, and  even  had  little  fits  of  well-feigned 
delirium,  in  which  he  babbled  of  home  and  friends 
and  the  war,  and  such  other  things  as  had  come 
within  the  limited  scope  of  his  mental  horizon. 

"Don't  leave  me.  Miss  Rachel  —  don't  leave  me," 
he  said,  in  one  of  these  simulated  paro.xysms,  clutch- 
ing at  the  same  time,  with  a  movement  singularly  well- 
directed  for  a  delirious  man,  one  of  her  delicate  hands 
in  his  great,  coarse  and  not-over-clean  fingers.  Had 
it  been  the  hand  of  a  dying  man,  or  of  one  in  a  raging 
fever,  that  imprisoned  hers,  Rachel  would  not  have 
felt  the  repulsion  that  she  did  at  a  touch  which 
betrayed  to  her  only  too  well  that  the  toucher's  illness 


ALSrAUGH    ON    A    BED    OF   PAIN.  237 

was  counterfeited.  She  could  hardly  restrain  the  im- 
pulse to  dash  away  the  loathsome  hand,  as  she  would 
a  toad  that  had  fallen  upon  her,  but  she  swiftly  remem- 
bered, as  she  had  in  hundreds  of  other  instances  since 
she  had  been  in  the  hospital,  that  she  was  no  longer  in 
her  own  parlor,  but  in  a  public  place,  with  scores  of 
eyes  noting  every  movement,  and  that  such  an  act  of 
just  disdain  would  probalily  be  misunderstood,  and 
possibly  be  ruinous  to  a  belief  in  her  genuine  s^'m- 
pathy  with  the  misfortunes  of  the  sick  which  she  had 
labored  so  heroically  to  build  up. 

She  strove  to  release  her  fingers  quietly,  but  at 
this  Alspaugh's  paroxysm  became  intense.  He  clung 
the  tighter  to  her,  and  kneaded  her  fingers  in  a  way 
that  was  almost  maddening.  Never  in  all  her  life 
had  a  man  presumed  to  take  such  a  familiarity  with 
her.  But  her  woman's  wit  did  not  desert  her.  With 
hor  disengaged  hand  she  felt  for  and  took  out  a  large 
pin  that  listened  a  bit  of  lace  to  hor  throat,  with  the 
desperate  intent  to  give  her  tormentor  a  sly  stab  that 
would  change  the  current  of  his  thoughts. 

But  at  the  moment  of  canning  this  into  effect 
something  caused  her  to  look  up,  and  she  saw  Dr. 
Denslow  standing  before  her,  with  an  amused  look  in 
his  kindly,  hazel  eyes. 

She  desisted  from  her  purpose  and  restored  the 
pin  to  its  place  in  obedience  to  a  sign  from  him, 
which  told  her  that  he  thoroughly  understood  the 
case,  and  had  a  more  effective  way  of  dealing  with  it 
than  the  thrust  of  a  pin  point. 

"  Fm  very  much  afraid  this  is  a  dangerous  case 
we  have  here,  Miss  Bond,"  he  said  in  a  stage  whisper, 


238  THE    RED    ACORX. 

as  if  very  anxious  that  the  patient  should  not  over- 
hear.    "Yes,  a  very  dangerous  case." 

Jake  grew  pale,  released  Rachel's  hand,  turned 
over  on  his  side  and  groaned. 

''Do  you  really  think  so.  Doctor? '' said  Rachel 
in  the  same  tone. 

"Yes,  really.  It's  as  clear  a  case  of  (h' gustlbns 
non  dhjyiitandum  as  I  ever  saw  in  my  life." 

"O,  Lordie,  hev  I  got  all  of  that?  "  asked  Jake, 
as  he  sat  bolt  upright,  with  eyes  starting. 

"It  is  my  unpleasant  duty  to  tell  you  that  you 
certainly  have,"  said  the  Doctor,  gravely.  "As 
plainly  indicated  as  I  ever  saw  it.  Furthermore,  it  is 
seriously  complicated  with  jiat  jtiatHla  mat  ccBhim^ 
with  strong  hints  of  the  presence  of  in  media  tti- 
tissimm  /6/.y.'' 

"Great  Scott!  can  I  ever  get  weU?'"  groaned 
poor  Jake.  RacheVs  strain  was  on  her  risibles,  and 
to  make  her  face  express  only  sympathy  and  concei-n. 

''And,"  continued  the  remorseless  Surgeon,  in  a 
tone  of  the  kindliest  commiseration,  "in  the  absence 
of  the  least  ej<j)ri't  de  co/'j)s,  and  didce  et  decorum  est 
pro  jpatria  mori  feeling  in  you  it  is  apparent  that  none 
of  your  mental  processes  are  going  on  properly,  which 
deranges  everything." 

"Can't  I  be  sent  home  to  die  ?"  whimpered  the 
Avretched  Jake." 

''Not  in  your  present  condition.  I  notice,  in  ad- 
dition to  what  I  have  told  you,  that  your  heart  is  not 
right  —  its  action  is  depraved,  so  to  speak."  This 
with  a  glance  at  Rachel,  which  brought  the  crimson 
to  that  damsel's  cheek. 


ALSPAUOH    OX    A    BED    OV    PAIN.  23!) 

'O,  Doctor,  please  try  to  do  something  for  me 
right  off,  before  I  get  any  worse,"  pleaded  Jake,  with 
the  tears  starting  in  his  eyes. 

Rachel  took  this  opportunity  to  slip  away  to  where 
she  could  laugh  unobserved.  The  Surgeon's  facial 
muscles  were  too  well  trained  to  feel  any  strain.  He 
continued  in  the  same  tone  of  gentle  consideration  : 

"  I  have  already  ordered  the  preparation  of  some 
remedies.  The  Steward  will  be  here  in  a  few  min- 
utes with  the  barber,  who  will  shave  your  head,  that 
we  may  apply  a  couple  of  fly-blisters  beliind  your  ears. 
They  are  also  spreading  a  big  mustard-plaster  in  the 
dispensary  for  you,  which  will  cover  your  whole; 
l)reast  and  stomach.  These,  with  a  strong  dose  of 
castor-oil,  may  bring  you  around  so  that  you  will  be 
able  to  go  back  to  duty  in  a  short  time." 

Jake  did  not  notice  the  unsheathed  sarcasm  m  the 
Surgeon's  allusion  to  returning  to  duty.  He  was  too 
delighted  with  the  chance  of  escaping  all  the  horrors 
enumerated  to  think  of  aught  else,  and  he  even  forgot 
to  beg  for  Rachel  to  come  and  sit  beside  his  bedside, 
as  he  had  intended  doing,  until  the  blisters  began  to 
remind  him  that  they  stuck  closer  than  a  brother. 
After  that  he  devoted  his  entire  attention  to  them,  as 
a  man  is  apt  to. 

A  good-sized  blister,  made  according  to  the  United 
States  Pharmacopoeia,  has  few-  equals  as  a  means  of 
concentrating  the  attention.  When  it  takes  a  fair 
hold  of  its  work  it  leaves  the  gentleman  whom  it  pa- 
tronizes little  opportunity  to  think  of  anything  else 
than  it  and  what  it  is  doing.  Everything  else  is  for- 
gotten, that  it  may  receive  full  consideration.     Then 


240  THE    RED   ACORN. 

comes  in  an  opportunit}^  for  a  vigorous  imagination. 
No  one  ever  underestimates  the  work  done  by  an  ac- 
tive blister,  if  it  is  upon  himself.  No  one  ever  grum- 
bles that  he  is  not  getting  his  money's  worth.  It  is 
the  one  monumental  exception,  where  men  are  willing 
to  accept  and  be  satisfied  with  a  fractional  part  of  that 
which  they  have  bought  and  paid  for. 

So  when  the  hiyer  of  fresh  mustard  that  covered 
the  whole  anterior  surface  of  Mr.  Alspaugh's  torso 
began  to  take  a  fair  hold  of  its  appointed  work  that 
gentleman's  thoughts  became  strongly  focused  upon 
it,  and  they  succeeded  each  other  as  the  minutes  went 
by  something  in  this  fashion  : 

First  Ten  Minutes. — "I  'spect  that  this  may  be- 
come rather  unpleasant  and  bothersome,  but  it  will 
not  be  for  long,  and  it'll  really  do  me  much  good." 

Second  Ten-  Jlifiutes. — "I  had  no  idea  that  blisters 
felt  just  this  way,  but  they  never  really  hurt  anybody 
but  women  and  children — fnen  laugh  at  them." 

TJiird  Ten  Minutes. — "The  thing  seems  to  be 
hunting  'round  for  my  tender  spots,  and  pokin'  pins^ 
into  'em.     I  begin  to  wish  that  it  was  all  over  with." 

Fourth  Ten  Minutes. — "It  begins  to  hurt  real 
bad.     I  wonder  if  it  ain't  a'most  time  to  take  it  off?  " 

Fifth  Ten  Minutes. — "The  very  devil  seems  to 
be  in  that  thing.  It  burns  like  as  if  a  sheet  of  red- 
hot  iron  was  layin'  there." 

Sixth  Ten  Minutes. — "  I  surely  believe  that  they've 
made  a  terrible  mistake  about  that  blister,  and  put  in 
some  awful  thing  that'll  kill  me  if  it  ain't  stopped. 
I'll  swear  it's  not  only  eat  all  the  skin  off,  but  it's 
gone  through  my  ribs,  an'  is  gnawin'  at  my  insides. 


AL8PAUGH    0^'    A   BED   OF   PAIN.  241 

Why  don't  the  Doctor  come  'round  an'  see  to  it  ? 
Here,  nurse,  call  the  Doctor,  a  a'  have  this  thing  taken 
off." 

Nurse. — "No,  it's  all  right.  The  Doctor  left  or- 
ders that  it  was  not  to  be  disturbed  for  some  time  yet. 
I'll  see  to  it  when  the  proper  time  comes.  I'm  watch- 
ing the  clock. " 

Seventh  Ten  Minutes. — "Great  Jehosefat !  this's 
jest  awful.  That  blasted  stuff's  cooked  my  innards 
to  rags,  an'  I  kin  feel  my  backbone  a-sizzlin'.  Say, 
Steward,  do,  for  the  Lord's  sake,  come  here,  an'  take 
this  thing  off,  while  there's  a  little  life  left  in  me." 

Stevxird. — "Can't  do  anything  yet.  You  must 
grin  and  bear  it  a  little  while  longer." 

Eighth  Ten  Minutes. —  "  Holy  smoke  !  I  couldn't 
suffer  more  if  I  was  in  the  lake  of  burnin'  brimstone. 
Every  ounce  of  me's  jest  fryin'.  Say,  Steward  ! 
Steward  ! " 

Steward  {angrily). — "  I  have  told  you  several 
times  that  I  couldn't  do  anything  for  you  yet  awhile. 
Now  keep  quiqt." 

' '  But,  Steward,  can't  you  at  least  bring  me  a 
fork?" 

"  Why,  what  do  you  want  a  fork  for?  " 

"  Jest  to  see  for  myself  if  I  ain't  cooked  done — 
that's  all." 

A  roar  of  laughter  went  up  in  which  even  Dr. 
Denslow,  who  had  just  entered  the  ward,  joined.  He 
ordered  the  blister  to  be  taken  off,  and  the  inflamed 
surfaces  properly  dressed,  which  was  done  to  the  ac- 
companiment of  Jake's  agonizing  groans. 

"I  think  Lieut  Alspaugh  will  be  content  to  go 
Q  n 


242  THE    RED    ACORN. 

back  to  the  field  in  a  few  days,  if  we  continue  this 
vigorous  treatment/'  Dr.  Denslow  said,  a  little  later, 
as  he  came  into  the  reading-room  of  the  hospital 
where  he  found  Rachel  sitting  alone. 

"O,  Doctor,  how  could  you  be  so  cruel?"  she 
asked  in  tones  which  were  meant  to  be  reproachful, 
but  only  poorly  disguised  her  mirthful  appreciation 
of  the  whole  matter. 

"I  wasn't  cruel  ;  I  only  did  my  duty.  The  fel- 
low's a  palpable  malingerer,  and  his  being  an  officer 
makes  it  ever  so  much  worse.  He's  trying  to  shirk 
duty  and  have  a  good  time  here  in  the  hospital.  It's 
my  place  to  make  the  hospital  so  unpleasant  for  him 
that  he  will  think  the  field  preferable,  and  I'm  going 
to  do  it,  especially  if  I  find  him  squeezing  your  hand 
again." 

There  was  that  in  Ihe  tone  of  the  last  sentence 
which  sol)ered  her  instantly.  Womanly  prescience 
told  her  that  the  Surgeon  had  discovered  what  seemed 
to  him  a  fitting  opportunity  to  say  that  which  he  had 
long  desired.  Ever  since  she  had  been  in  the  hospi- 
tal he  had  exerted  himself  to  smooth  her  path  for  her, 
and  make  her  stay  there  endurable.  There  was  not  a 
day  in  which  she  was  not  indebted  to  him  for  some 
unobtrusive  kindness,  delicately  and  thoughtfully  ren- 
dered. 

While  she  know  quite  well  that  these  courtesies 
would  have  been  as  conscientiously  extended  to  any 
other  woman — young  or  old — in  her  position,  yet  her 
instincts  did  not  allow  her  any  doubt  that  there  was 
about  them  a  flavor  personal  to  herself,  and  redolent 
of  somethinir  much  warmer  than  mere  kindliness.     A 


ALSPAUGH    ON    A   BED   OF   PAIN.  243 

knowledge  of  this  hud  at  times  tainted  the  pleasure 
she  felt  in  accepting  welcome  little  attentions  from 
him.  She  dreaded  what  she  knew  was  coming.  He 
took  her  hand  and  started  to  speak  with  tremulous 
lips.  But  almost  at  the  same  instant  the  door  was 
flung  open,  and  a  nurse  entered  in  breathless  haste. 

"O,  Doctor/Mie  gasped,  "Fve  been  looking  for 
you  everywhere.  That  Lieutenant  in  the  First  Ward 
thinks  he's  a-dyin\  He's  groanin'  an'  cryin',  and 
a-takin'  on  at  a  terrible  rale,  an'  nobody  can't  do 
nothin'  with  him.  The  Steward  wants  you  to  come 
there  right  off." 

"It's  only  the  castor  oil,"  muttered  the  Doctor 
savagely,  as  he  rose  to  follow  the  nurse. 

This  was  the  letter  that  the  Orderly  handed  Rachel 
some  days  later  : 

Dkah  Ratik:  Your  letter  came  at  last,  for  which  I  was  so 
thankful,  because  I  had  waited  so  long  for  it  that  I  was  so  tired 
aud  so  anxious  that  I  was  almost  at  my  wits'  end.  I  am  so  glad 
that  you  are  well,  (hat  you  have  got  your  room  at  last  fixed  up 
real  nice  and  comfortal)le.  as  a  young  lady  should  have,  and  that 
you  find  your  duties  more  agreeable.  It  is  so  nice  in  that  Dr 
Denslow  to  help  you  along  as  he  does.  But  then  that  is  what 
every  real  gentleman  should  do  for  a  young  lady— or  old  one  for 
that  matter.     Still,  I  would  like  to  thank  him  w  much. 

I  am  not  at  all  well:  my  heart  gives  me  so  much  trouble- 
more  than  ever  before— and  as  you  say  nothing  about  coming 
home  I  have  about  concluded  to  try  what  a  change  of  climate  and 
scene  will  do  for  me,  and  so  have  concluded  to  accept  your  Aunt 
Tabitha's  invitation  to  spend  a  few  months  with  her.  Unless  you 
hear  from  me  to  the  contrary— whicli  you  will  probably  not,  as 
the  mails  are  so  uncertain  in  Kentucky,  you  had  better  address 
your  next  letter  to  me  at  Eau  Claire. 

But  I  am  so  sorry  to  see  by  your  letter  that  you  show  no 
signs  of  weariness  with  your  quixotic  idea  of  serving  the  country 


244  THE    RED    ACORX. 

in  the  hospital.  I  had  hoped  so  much  that  you  would  by  this 
time  have  decided  that  you  had  done  enough,  and  come  home  and 
content  yourself  with  doing  what  you  could  for  the  Sanitary 
Fair,  and  the  lint-scraping  bees. 

Youu  Affectionate  Motheu. 

P.  S. — Your  father  is  well.  He  will  go  with  me  to  Wiscon- 
sin, and  then  go  down  to  Nebraska  to  look  after  his  land  there. 

P.  S  — I  am  so  sorry  to  tell  you  that  Harry  Glen  has  acted 
badly  again.  The  last  letters  from  the  regiment  say  that  he  did 
not  go  into  the  fight  at  "Wildcat,  and  afterward  was  missing. 
They  believe  he  was  captured,  and  some  say  he  was  taken  pris- 
oner on  purpose.  Everybody's  saying,  "I  told  you  so,"  and 
Mrs.  Glen  has  not  been  on  the  street  or  to  church  since  the  news 
came.  I  am  so  sorry  for  her,  but  then  you  know  that  she  used  to 
put  on  quite  as  many  airs  as  her  position  justified. 

P.  S. — Hoop-skirts  are  getting  smaller  every  month,  and 
some  are  confident  that  they  will  go  entirely  out  of  fashion  by 
next  year.  I  do  so  hope  not,  1  so  dread  having  to  come  back  to 
the  old  way  of  wearing  a  whole  clothes-basketful  of  white  skirts. 
The  new  bonnets  are  just  the  awfulest  things  you  ever  did  see. 
Write  soon. 


Rachel  crumpled  the  letter  in  her  hand,  with  a 
quick,  angry  gesture,  as  if  crushing  some  hateful, 
despicable  thing,  and  her  clear  hazel  eyes  blazed. 

"He  is  evidently  a  hopeless  coward,""  she  said  to 
herself,  "when  all  that  has  pa.ssed  can  not  spur  him 
into  an  exhibition  of  proper  spirit.  If  he  had  the 
love  for  me  he  professed  it  could  not  help  stimulat- 
ing him  to  some  show  of  manliness.  I  will  fling  him 
out  of  my  heart  and  my  world  as  I  would  fling  a  rotten 
apple  out  of  a  basket." 

Then  a  sadder  and  gentler  light  shone  in  her  face. 

"Perhaps  I  am  myself  to  blame  a  little.  I  may 
not  be  a  good  source  of  inspiration  to  acts  of  heroism. 


ALSPAUGH    ON   A   BED   OF   PAIN.  245 

Other  girls  may  have  ways  of  stimulating  their  lovers 
to  high  deeds  that  I  know  not  of.  Possrbly  I  applied 
the  lash  too  severely,  and  instead  of  rousing  him  up 
I  killed  all  the  hope  in  his  heart,  and  made  him  indif- 
ferent to  his  future.  Possibly,  too,  this  story  may 
not  be  true.  The  feeling  in  Sardis  against  him  is 
strong,  and  they  are  hardly  willing  to  do  him  jus- 
tice. No  doubt  they  misrepresent  him  in  this,  as  they 
are  apt  to  do  in  everything." 
Her  face  hardened  again. 

"But  it's  of  no  use  seeking  excuses  for  him.  My 
lover— my  husband— must  be  a  man  who  can  hold  his 
own  with  other  men,  in  whatever  relation  of  life  the 
struggle  may  be.  The  man  into  whose  hands  I 
entrust  the  happiness  of  my  life  must  have  his  qual- 
ities so  clear  and  distinct  that  there  never  will  be  any 
question  about  them.  He  must  not  need  continual 
explanation  and  defense,  for  then  outraged  pride 
would  strangle  love  with  a  ruthless  hand.  No,  I  must 
never  have  reason  to  believe  that  my  choice  is  inferior 
to  other  men  in  anything." 

But  notwithstanding  this,  she  smoothed  out  the 
crumpled  letter  tenderly  upon  her  knee,  and  read  it 
over  again,  in  the  vain  hope  of  finding  that  the  words 
had  less  harshness  than  she  had  at  first  found  in  them. 
"No,  she  said,  after  a  weary  study  of  the  lines, 
"It's  surely  worse  than  mother  states  it.  She  is  so 
kind  and  gentle  that  she  never  fails  to  mitigate  the 
harshness  of  anything  that  she  hears  about  others, 
and  she  has  told  me  this  as  mildly  as  the  case  will 
admit.     I  must  give  him  up  forever." 

But  though  she  made  this  resolution  with  a  firm 


246  THE    RED   ACORN. 

settling  of  the  lines  around  her  mouth  that  spoke 
strongly  of  its  probable  fulfilment,  the  arrival  of  the 
decision  was  the  signal  for  tlie  assault  of  a  thousand 
tender  memories  and  dear  recollections,  all  pleading 
trumpet-tongued  against  the  summary  dismissal  of  the 
unworthy  lover.  All  the  ineffably  sweet  incidents  of 
their  love-life  stretched  themselves  out  in  a  vista  be- 
fore her,  and  tempted  her  to  reverse  her  decision. 
But  she  stayed  her  purpose  with  repeating  to  herself: 

"  It  will  save  untold  misery  hereafter  to  be  firm 
now,  and  end  a  connection  at  once  that  must  be  the 
worse  for  both  of  us  every  day  that  it  is  allowed  to 
continue." 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  Dr.  Densiow 
entered. 

The  struggle  had  so  shattered  Rachel's  self-control 
that  she  nervously  grasped  the  letter  and  thrust  it 
into  her  pocket,  as  if  the  mere  sight  of  it  would 
reveal  to  him  the  perturbation  that  was  shaking  her. 

His  quick  eyes—quicker  j'et  in  whatever  related 
to  her — noticed  her  embarrassment. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  said  with  that  graceful  tact 
which  seemed  the  very  fiber  of  his  nature.  "  You  are 
not  in  the  mood  to  receive  callers.  I  will  go  now. 
and  look  in  again." 

"No,  no  ;  stay.  I  am  really  glad  to  see  you.  it 
is  nothing,  I  assure  you." 

She  really  wished  very  much  to  be  alone  with  her 
grief,  but  she  felt  somehow  that  to  shrink  from  a 
meeting  would  be  an  evasion  of  the  path  of  duty  she 
had  marked  out  for  her  feet  to  tread.  If  she  were 
going  to  eliminate  all  thoughts  of  her  love  and  her 


ALSPAUGH    ON    A   BED   OF   PAIN.  247 

lover  from  her  life,  there  was  no  better  time  to  be^in 
than  now,  while  her  resolution  was  fresh.  She  insisted 
upon  the  Doctor  remaining,  and  he  did  so.  Conscious 
that  her  embarrassment  had  been  noticed,  her  self- 
possession  did  not  return  quickly  enough  to  prevent 
her  falling  into  the  error  of  failing  to  ignore  this,  and 
she  confusedly  stumbled  into  an  explanation  : 

"I  have  received  a  letter  from  home  which  con- 
tains news  that  disturbs  me."  This  was  as  far  as  she 
had  expected  to  go. 

Dr.  Denslow's  face  expressed  a  lively  sympathy. 
"No  one  dead  or  seriously  ill,  I  trust." 

"No,  not  so  bad  as  that,"  she  answered  hastily, 
in  the  first  impulse  of  fear  that  she  had  unwarrant- 
ably excited  his  sympathy.  "  Nor  is  it  anything  con- 
nected with  property,"  she  hastily  added,  as  she  saw 
the  Doctor  looked  inquiringly,  but  as  though  fearing 
that  further  questioning  might  be  an  indelicate  intru- 
sion. 

She  picked  nervously  at  the  engagement  ring 
which  Harry  had  placed  upon  her  finger.  It  fitted 
closely,  nnd  resisted  her  efforts  at  removal.  She  felt, 
when  it  was  too  late,  that  neither  this  nor  its  signifi- 
cance had  escaped  Dr.  Denslow's  eyes. 

"A  f-riend  —  an  —  acquaintance  of  mine  has  dis- 
graced himself,"  she  said,  with  a  very  apparent  effort. 
An  ordinary  woman  would  have  broken  down  in  a 
tearful  tempest,  but  as  has  been  said  before  she 
was  denied  that  sweet  relief  which  most  women  find 
in  a  readily  responsive  gush  of  tears.  Her  eyes  be- 
came very  dry  and  exceedingly  hot.  Her  misery  was 
evident. 


248  THE    KED    ACORN. 

The  Doctor  took  her  hand  with  a  movement  of  in- 
voluntaiy  s^'mpathy.  •*!  am  deeply  hurt  to  see  you 
grieve,"  he  said,  ''and  I  wish  that  I  might  say  some- 
thing to  alleviate  your  troubles.  Is  it  anything  that 
you  can  tell  me  about  i  '* 

"No,  it  is  nothing  of  which  I  can  say  a  word  to 
any  one,"  she  answered.  "It  is  a  trouble  that  I  can 
share  with  no  one,  and  least  of  all  with  a  stranger." 

"Am  I  not  more  than  a  stranger  to  you?"  he 
asked. 

"Oyes,  indeed,"  she  said,  and  hastemng  to  cor- 
rect her  former  coldness,  added  ; 

"You  are  a  very  dear,  good  friend,  whom  I  vaiu^ 
much  more  highly  than  I  have  given  you  reason  to 
think." 

His  face  brightened  wonderfully,  but  he  adven- 
tured his  way  slowly.  "I  am  very  glad  that  you 
esteem  me  what  I  have  tried  to  show  myself  during 
our  acquaintance." 

"You  have  indeed  shown  yourself  a  ver}' "true 
friend.     I  could  not  ask  for  a  better  one." 

"Then  will  you  not  trust  me  with  a  share  of  your 
sorrows,  that  I  may  help  you  l)ear  them  ? " 

"No,  no  ;  you  can  not.  Nobody  can  do  anything 
in  this  case  but  m3'self." 

"  You  do  not  know.  You  do  not  know  what  love 
can  accomplish  when  it  sets  itself  to  work  with  the 
ardor  belonging  to  it  " 

"  Love  !  O,  do  not  speak  to  me  of  that,"  she  said, 
suddenl}^  awaking  to  the  drift  of  his  words,  and  striv- 
ing to  withdraw  her  hand. 

"  No,  but  I  must  speak  of  it,"  he  said  with  a  vehe- 


ALSPAUGH    ON   A    BED   OF    PAIN.  249 

mence  entirely  foreign  to  his  usual  half-mocking  phi- 
losophy. "I  must  speak  of  it,"  he  repeated  with 
deepening  tones.  "  You  surely  can  not  be  blind  to 
the  ftict  that  I  love  you  devotedly  —  absorbingly. 
Every  day's  intercourse  must  have  shown  you  sonic- 
thing  of  this,  which  you  could  not  have  mistaken. 
You  must  have  seen  this  growing  upon  me  contin- 
ually, until  now  I  have  but  few  thoughts  into  which 
your  image  does  not  appear,  to  brighten  and  enhance 
them.  Tell  me  now  that  hopes,  dearer  —  infinitely 
dearer — than  any  I  have  ever  before  cherished,  are  to 
have  the  crown  of  fruition." 

"I  can  not  —  I  can  not,"  she  sighed. 
"What  can  you  not?     Can't  you  care  for  me  at 
least  a  little  ?  " 

"  I  do ;  I  care  for  you  ever  so  much.  1  am  not 
only  grateful  for  all  that  you  have  been  to  me  and 
done  for  me,  but  I  have  a  feeling  that  goes  beyond 
mere  gratitude.  But  to  say  that  I  return  the  love  you 
profess  for  me  — -  that  I  even  entertain  any  feeling 
resembling  it  —  I  can  not,  and  certainly  not  at  this 
time." 

"  But  3^ou  certainly  do  not  love  any  one  else?  " 
"O,  I  beg  of  you  not  to  question  me." 
"I  know  I  have  no  right  to  ask  you  such  a  ques- 
tion. I  have  no  right  to  pry  into  any  matter  which 
you  do  not  choose  to  reveal  to  me  of  your  own  free 
will  and  accord.  But  as  all  the  mail  of  the  hospital 
goes  through  my  hands,  I  could  not  help  noticing  that 
in  all  months  that  you  have  been  here  you  have  written 
to  no  man,  nor  received  a  letter  from  one.  Upon  this 
I  have  built  my  hopes  that  you  wore  hoartfree." 


250  THE    RED    ACORN. 

"I  can  not  talk  of  this,  nor  of  anvthinsr  now.  I 
am  so  wrought  up  by  many  things  that  have  happened 
— by  my  letter  from  home  ;  by  your  unexpected  dec- 
laration— that  my  poor  brain  is  in  a  whirl,  and  I  ran 
not  think  clearly  and  connectedly  on  any  subject. 
Please  do  not  press  me  any  more  now.'' 

The  torrent  of  his  passion  was  stayed  b}^  this 
appeal  to  his  forbearance.  He  essayed  to  calm  down 
his  impetuous  eagerness  for  a  decision  of  his  fate, 
and  said  penitently  : 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  I  really  forgot.  I  have  so 
long  sought  an  opportunity  to  speak  to  you  upon 
this  matter,  and  I  have  been  so  often  balked  at  the 
last  moment,  that  when  a  seeming  chance  came  I  was 
carried  awa}-  with  it,  and  in  my  selfish  eagerness  for 
my  own  happiness,  I  forgot  your  distress.  Forgive 
me — do." 

"I  have  nothing  to  forgive,"  she  said  frankly, 
nmch  touched  by  his  tender  consideration.  "  You 
never  allow  me  an  occasion  for  forgiveness,  or  to  do 
anything  in  any  way  to  offset  the  favors  you  contin- 
ually heap  upon  me." 

''Pay  them  all  a  thousand  times  over  by  giving 
me  the  least  reason  to  hope." 

"  I  only  wish  I  could — I  only  wish  I  dared.  But 
I  fear  to  sa}'  anything  now.     I  can  not  trust  myself." 

'"But  you  will  at  least  say  something  that  will 
give  me  the  basis  of  a  hope,"  he  persisted. 

"Xot  now  —  not  now,"  she  said,  giving  him  her 
hand,  which  he  seized  and  kissed  fervently,  and  with- 
drew from  the  room. 


ALSPAUGH    ON   A   BED   OF   PAIN.  251 

She  bolted  the  door  and  gave  herself  up  to  the 
most  intense  thought. 

Assignment  to  duty  with  an  expedition  took  Dr. 
Denslow  awa}^  the  next  morning,  without  his  being 
able  to  see  her.  When  he  returned  a  week  later,  he 
found  this  letter  lying  on  his  desk  : 

My  Very  Deak  Friend:  The  declaration  you  honored  me 
with  making  have  been  the  subject  of  many  hours  of  the  most 
earnest  consideration  possible.  I  am  certain  that  it  is  due  to  you 
and  to  the  confession  that  you  have  made  of  your  feelings,  that  I 
should  in  turn  confess  that  I  am  deeply— what  shalfl  say  — 
interested  in  you  ?  No  ;  that  is  too  prim  and  prudish  a  term. 
There  is  in  you  for  me  more  than  a  mere  attraction ;  I  feel  for  you 
something  deeper  than  even  warm  friendship.  That  you  would 
make  such  a  husband  as  I  sliould  cherish  and  honor,  of  whom  I 
should  be  proud,  and  whose  strong,  kindly  arms  would  be  my 
secure  support  and  protection  until  death  claimed  us,  I  have  not 
the  slightest  doubt.  But  when  I  ask  myself  whether  this  is  really 
love— the  sacred,  all  pervading  pa.ssion  which  a  wom.in  .sliould  feel 
for  the  man  to  whom  she  gives  herself,  body  and  soul,  I  encounter 
tlie  strongest  doubts.  These  doubts  have  no  reference  to  you— 
only  to  myself.  I  feel  that  it  would  be  a  degradation— a  deep 
profanation— for  me  to  give  myself  to  you,  without  feeling  in  its 
entirety  such  a  love  as  I  have  attempted  to  define.  I  have  gone 
away  from  you  because  I  want  to  consider  this  question  and 
decide  it  with  more  calmness  and  impartiality  than  I  can  where  I 
meet  you  daily,  and  daily  receive  .some  kindness  from  your  hands. 
These  and  the  magnetism  of  your  presence  are  temptations  which 
I  fear  might  swerve  me  from  my  ideal,  and  possibly  lead  to  a 
mistake  which  we  both  might  ever  afterward  have  reason  to  regret. 
I  have,  as  you  will  be  informed,  accepted  a  detail  to  one  of 
the  hospitals  at  Nashville.  Do  not  write  me,  except  to  tell  me  of 
a  change  in  your  postofHce  address.  I  will  not  write  you,  unless 
I  have  something  of  special  moment  to  tell  you.  Believe  me, 
whatever  may  betide,  at  least  your  very  sincere  friend, 

Rachel  Bond. 


252  THE    RED    ACORN. 


CHAPTER    XVIIl. 


SECRET    SERVICE. 

The  flags  of  war  like  storm-birds  fly. 

The  charging  trumpets  blow. 
Yet  rolls  no  thunder  In  the  sky, 

No  earthquake  strives  below. 

And  calm  and  patient  Nature  keeps 

Her  ancient  promise  well. 
Though  o'er  her  bloom  and  greenness  sweeps 

The  battle's  breath  of  hell. 

Ah!  eyes  may  well  he  full  of  tears, 

And  hearts  with  <iatc  are  hot, 
But  even-paced  come  round  the  years. 

And  Nature  changes  not. 

She  meets  with  smiles  our  bitter  grief, 

■With  songs  our  groans  of  pain; 
She  mocks  with  tint  of  flower  and  leaf 

The  war-field' s  crimson  stain. 

—  Whittier's  '"Battle  Autumn  of  1 


THE  Summer  and  Full  of  the  ''Battle  Year"  of 
1862  had  passed  without  the  Army  of  the  Cum- 
berland—then called  the  Army  of  the  Ohio— l)eing 
able  to  bring  its  Rebel  antagonist  to  a  decisive  strug- 
gle. In  September  the  two  had  raced  entirely  across 
the  States  of  Tennessee  and  Kentucky,  for  the  prize 
of  Louisville,  which  the  Union  army  won.  In  Octo- 
ber the  latter  chased  its  enemy  back  through  Ken- 
tucky, without  being  able  to  inflict  upon  it  more  than 


,  SECRET   SERVICE.  25d 

the  abortive  blow  at  Perryville,  and  November  found 
the  two  opponents  facing  each  other  in  Middle  Ten- 
nessee— the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  at  Nashville, 
and  the  Rebel  Army  of  the  Tennessee  at  Murfrees- 
boro,  twenty-eight  miles  distant.  There  the  two  equally 
matched  giants  lay  confronting  each  other,  and  sul- 
lenly making  ready  for  the  mighty  struggle  which 
was  to  decide  the  possession  of  a  territory  equaling  a 
kingdom  in  extent. 

In  the  year  which  had  elapsed  since  the  affair  at 
Wildcat  Harry  Glen's  regiment  had  not  participated 
in  a  single  general  eniragement.  It  had  scouted  and 
raided  ;  it  had  reconnoitered  and  guarded ;  it  had 
chased  guerrillas  through  the  Winter's  rain  and  mud 
for  days  and  nights  together ;  it  had  followed  John 
Morgan's  dashing  troopers  along  limestone  turnpikes 
that  glowed  like  brick-kilns  under  the  July  sun  until 
three-fourths  of  the  regiment  had  dropped  by  the 
roadside  in  sheer  exhaustion ;  it  had  marched  over 
the  mountains  to  Cumberland  Gap,  and  back  over  the 
mountams  to  Lexington  ;  across  Kentucky  and  Ten- 
nessee to  Huntsville,  Ala.,  back  across  those  States 
to  the  Ohio  River,  and  again  back  across  Kentucky 
to  Nashville,  beside  side  marches  as  numerous  as  the 
branches  on  a  tree ;  50  per  cent,  of  its  number  had 
fallen  victims  to  sickness  and  hardship,  and  10  per 
cent,  more  had  been  shot,  here  and  there,  a  man  or 
two  at  a  time,  on  the  picket  or  skirmish  line,  at  fords 
or  stockades  guarding  railroad  bridges.  But  while 
other  regiments  which  had  suffered  nothing  like  it 
had  painted  on  their  banners  "Mill  Springs,"  "  Shi- 
loh,"  and  "Perryville,"  its  colors  had  yet  to  receive 


254  THE    RED   ACORN 

their  maiden  inscription.  This  was  the  hard  luck  of 
many  of  the  regiments  in  the  left  wing  of  BuelFs 
army  in  1862. 

Kent  Edwards,  whose  promotion  to  the  rank  of 
Sergeant,  and  reduction  for  some  esca[)ade  had  been 
a  usual  monthly  occurrence  during  the  year,  was  fond 
of  saying  that  the  i-egiment  was  not  sent  to  the  field 
to  gain  martial  glory,  but  to  train  as  book  agents  to 
sell  histories  of  the  struggle,  "  When  This  Cruel  War 
is  Over."  Whereupon  Abe  Bolton  would  imi)rove 
the  occasion  to  invoke  a  heated  future  for  every  per- 
son in  authorit3%  from  the  President  down  to  the 
Fifth  Corporal. 

But  for  all  this  the  400  hardy  boys  who  still  re- 
mained to  answer  roll-call,  out  of  the  1,100  that  had 
crossed  the  Ohio  River  in  September,  1801,  were  as 
fine  a  body  of  fighting  men  as  ever  followed  a  flag, 
and  there  was  no  better  soldier  among  them  than 
Harry  Glen.  Every  day  had  been  a  growth  to  him, 
and  every  trial  had  knit  his  spirit  into  firmer  texture. 
For  awhile  he  had  made  it  a  matter  of  conscience  to 
take  an  active  part  in  everything  that  his  comrades 
were  called  upon  to  do.  Soon  this  l)ecame  a  matter 
of  pleasure,  for  the  satisfaction  of  successfully  leading 
them  through  difficulties  and  dangers  more  than  com- 
pensated for  the  effort.  But  while  he  had  vindicated 
himself  in  their  estimation,  he  yet  lacked  that  which 
the  ordeal  of  a  battle  would  give  him  at  home,  and 
more  than  all,  in  RacheFs  eyes.  He  heard  nothing  from 
or  of  her,  but  he  consoled  himself  with  the  hope  that 
the  same  means  by  which  she  had  been  so  promptly 
informed  of  his  misstep,  would  convey  to  her  an  inti- 


SECRET   SEEVICE. 


255 


mation  of  how  well  he  wa.  deserving  her.     When  lie 

ir  TT  r^r'l'''™"'''  '"™^^'f  laytbemather 
feet.  Unfl  then  he  conid  only  hope  and  strive,  cher- 
ishmg  all  the  while  the  love  for  her  that  daily  .rew 
stronger  in  his  heart.  " 


A  patient  in  her  ward,  recovering  from  a  fever, 
attracted  Rachel's  attention  soon  after  her  entranc^ 
upon  duty  at  Nashville.  entrance 

Womanly  intuition  showed  her  that  no  ordinary 
spirit  slumbered  underneath  the  usual  mountaineer 
characteristics.  The  long,  lank,  black  hair,  the  an<.u- 
larou  lines,  and  the  uncouth  gestures  were  comm"on 
enongl  among  hose  around  her,  but  she  saw  a  latent 

formed  r""""^'""  •'•"•'  '"""'"''  ^>'-'  -'"^h  trans- 
formed the  man  into  one  in  whose  brain  and  hand 
slept  many  possibilities  that  were  liable  to  awaken  at 

t.aying  this  fact  by  .singling  him  out  as  the  recipient 
of  many  Imie  attentions  somewhat  more  special  than 
those  she  bestowed  on  others. 

wnrd"  f"""  ""7,  '!""''•  "'■'""  '•^  *<>  -""^^d  "bout  the 
ward  she  would  in  turning  discover  his  eyes  fixed 

study  After  awhile  the  study  seemed  to  show  that 
It  had  been  satisfactory,  and  one  d.ay,  when  the  Sur- 
geon had  informed  him  that  he  w.as  now  in  a  condi- 

L'llrCU  :  '"''  ^^'^"^™"  '"  '-'  «'  '"  "o  -' 

"Kin  I  speak  ter  ye  a  moment  in  private.  Miss?" 

Certamly,"she  replied.    "Come  right  in  here." 


256  THE    RED    ACORN. 

Entering  the  room  he  closed  the  door  behind  them, 
and  made  a  minute  survej'  of  the  windows,  and  other 
points  of  vantage  for  eavesdroppers.  This  done,  he 
returned  to  where  Rachel  was  watching  his  operations 
with  much  curiosit}',  and  said  : 

"  Let's  set  down.  I  guess  no  one'll  overhear  us, 
ef  we're  keerful. 

''  Hev  ye  enn\^  idee  who  I  am  ? "  he  asked  ab- 
ruptly, as  they  sat  down  on  one  of  the  rude  benches 
with  which  the  room  was  furnished. 

"Not  the  slightest,'' she  answered,  "except  that 
you  appear  on  tlie  roll  as  'James  Brown,  No.  23,'  no 
company  or  regiment  given." 

"Very  good.  D'ye  reckon  thet  enny  o' them  in 
thar  hev  ? " — pointing  over  his  shoulder  with  his  thumb 
to  the  ward. 

''Of  course  I  can  'not  tell  as  to  that.  I  never 
hear  them  say  anything  about  you.  They  seem  to 
think  that  you  are  one  of  the  loyal  East  Tennesseeans 
that  are  pretty  plentiful  about  here." 

"I've  bin  afeered  fur  the  last  few  days  that  some 
uv  'em  were  Rebels  in  disguise,  an'  thet  they  sort  o' 
suspicioned  me.  I  hev  seed  two  on  'em  eyein'  me 
mouty  hard.  One  has  a  red  head,  an'  'tother  a  long 
black  beard. " 

"I  can  perhaps  .set  your  anxiety  at  rest  on  that 
score.  They  are  Southerners,  but  loyal  ones.  They 
were  forced  into  the  Rebel  army,  but  made  their  es- 
cape at  the  first  opportunity.  They  naturally  watch 
every  Southern-looking  man  with  great  interest,  fear- 
ing that  he  may  be  an  unpleasant  acquaintance." 

"Desarters  from  the  Rebel  army,  be  they?  Thet 


SECRET   SERVICE.  257 

makes  me  sho\  I  thot  I'd  seen  'em  afore,  an'  this 
makes  me  sartin.  They're  mouty  bad  pills,  an'  they 
hain't  heah  far  no  good.  But  whar  did  I  see  'em  ? 
In  some  Rebel  camp  soniewhar?  No  ;  now  I  remem- 
ber. Ef  I  hain't  powerfully  fooled  them's  the  two 
laddie-bucks  thet  Harry  Glen  an'  me  gobbled  up  one 
fine  momin'  an'  tuck  inter  Wildcat.  They're  bad 
aigs,  ef  ther  ever  war  bad  aigs. " 

"  Harry  Glen,  did  you  say  ?  What  do  you  know 
of  Harry  Glen  ?  "     Her  heart  was  in  her  mouth. 

"What  do  I  know  of  Harry  Glen  ?  Why,  jest 
heaps  an'  more  yit.  He's  one  o'  the  best  men  thet 
ever  wore  blue  clothes.  But  thet's  nuther  heah  nor 
thar.  Thet  hain't  what  I  brung  ye  out  heah  ter  talk 
on." 

"Go  on,"  said  Rachel,  resisting  her  eagerness  to 
overwhelm  him  with  questions  concerning  the  one 
man  of  all  the  world  she  most  desired  to  learn  about. 
"I  can  spare  you  but  little  time." 

"All  right,  Miss.  Ter  begin  with,  my  name's 
not  Brown.  Nary  a  time.  Hit's  Fortner— Jim  Fort- 
ner — the  'noted  Scout,'  ez  I  heered  ye  readin'  'bout 
'tother  day,  when  ye  war  givin'  the  boys  the  war 
news  in  the  papers.  I'm  well-known  ez  a  secret- 
sarvice  man — tu  well-known,  I'm  afeered.  I  could 
git  'long  'ithout  quite  ez  menny  'quaintances  pz  I  hev 
gethered  up  lately.  More  'specially  o'  the  kind,  fur 
menny  on  'em  ar'  only  waitin'  a  good  opportunity  ter 
gin  me  a  gran'  interduction  to  'tarnity.  I'd  ruther 
know  fewer  folks  an'  better  ones,  ez  I  wunst  heered 
Harry  Glen  say." 

"What  do  you  know  of -"  Rachel  started  to 

R  11* 


258  THE    RED    ACORN. 

say,  but  beforo  she  could  finish  the  sentence  Fortnei 
resumed  : 

"I'm  now 'l)()ut  tor  start  on  the  most  'portant 
work  I  ever  done  fur  the  Gover'mint.  Things  ar' 
ripcnin'  fast  fur  the  orfulest  battle  over  fit  in  this  ere 
co'ntry.  Afore  the  Chrismuss  snow  flies  this  ere 
army'll  fall  on  them  thar  Rel>els  "round  Murfreesboro 
like  an  oak  tree  on  a  den  o"  rattlesnakes.  Blood'll 
run  like  water  in  a  Spring  thaw,  an'  them  foUors'll 
hov  so  monny  fun'rals  tor  tend  thot  thoy  won't  hcv 
no  time  for  Chrismuss  frolics.  They've  raced  back 
an'  forrard,  an'  dodged  up  an'  down  fur  a  year  now, 
but  they're  at  the  eend  uv  ther  rope,  an'  hit'll  be  a 
deth-nooze  fur  'em.  May  the  pit  o'  hell  open  fur 
'em.'' 

He  watched  Rachel's  face  closely  as  he  spoke. 
She  neither  blanched  iTor  recoiled,  but  her  eyes  lighted 
up  as  if  with  anticipation  of  the  coming  conflict,  and 
she  asked  eagerly  : 

"O,  are  yon  only  quite  sure  that  our  army  will  be 
victorious  ? " 

His  eyes  shone  with  gratification. 
"Iknowed  thet's  the  way  ye'd  take  the  news.  I 
knowod  the  minit  I  sot  eyes  on  ye  thot  ye  war  good 
grit.  I  never  git  fooled  much  in  my  guess  o'  peo- 
ple's backbone.  Thar  wuz  Harry  Glen — all  his  own 
comrades  thot  he  wuz  white  'bout  the  liver,  but  I 
seed  the  minit  I  laid  my  eyes  onter  him  thet  he  hed 
ez  good,  stan'-up  stuff*  in  him  ez  ennybody,  w'en  he 
got  over  his  fust  flightiness.'* 

Had  this  man  some  scheme  that  would  bring  her 
lover  and  her  together  '(     "  But  what  do  you  want  of 


SECRET   SERVICE.  259 

me  ?  •'  Rachel  asked,  with  all  the  composure  she  could 
summon. 

'•Suthing  a  cussed  sight  more  hon'rable  an'  more 
useful  ter  ther  Gover'mint  then  stayin'Vound  heah 
nussin'  those  loafers,"  he  answered  roughly.      " Hist  ' 
thar's  a  shadder  nigh  ycm  winder."     He  crossed  the 
room  with  the  quick,  silent  tread  of  a  panther,  and 
his  face   dai-kened  as  he  saw  the  ol>jecti()nable  red- 
headed and  black-bearded  men  walkinir  away  toward 
the  parade-ground,  with  their  backs  to  the'window 
"  Yer  orful  cute,"   he  said,  talking  to  himself,   and 
alludmgtothe  retiring  figures,  -but  ef  I  don't  o-in 
ye   a  trip  afore  long    thet'U   make  yer  heels  bre^ak 
yer  pizen  necks  I  hope  I  may  never  see  Rockassel 
Mountings  agin.     Td  do  hit  now,  but  I'm  a-trailin' 
bigger  game.     When  hit's  my  day  fur  killin'  skunks 
look  out— thet's  all." 

Returning  to  the  expectant  Radiol  he  continued  • 
"I  leave   ter-night  fur  the  Rebel  army  at  Mur- 
freesboro.     Ole  Rosy  hisself  sends  me,  but  I'm  ter 
pick  out  the  messengers  ter  send  my  news  back  ter 
hiui  by.     I  must  hev  sevVal  so's  ter  make  dead  slio' 
thet  ev'rything  reaches  'im.     I  want  ye  fur  the  main 
one,  bekase  ye've  got  brains  an'  san',  and  then  ye  kin 
git  thru  the  lines  whar  a  man  can't.     Tliar'll  be  noth- 
m'  bad    'bout  hit.     Ye'll  ride  ter   xMurfreesboro  an' 
back  on  yer  own  boss,  ez  a  young  lady  should,  an'  if 
ye  accomplish  ennything  hit'U  be  a  greater  sarvice 
tew  the  country  then  most  men  kin  do  in  ther  lives 
Hit  II  be  sum'thing  ter  be  proud  of  ez  long's  ye  live 
Willye  try  hit?" 

•'Why   don't    you    bring   back   the   information 


260  TH?:    RED    ACORN. 

yourself^     Can't  yon  come  back  througli  the  lines 
as  easil}'  as  you  go  ?  " 

"I  mout,  an'  then  air'in  I  nioutn't.  Every  time  I 
go  inter  the  Rebel  camps  the  chances  get  stronger 
thet  I  '11  never  come  back  ag'in.  Ez  Harry  Glen  sez, 
the  circle  o'  my  onpleasant  acquaintances — the  fellers 
thet 's  reachin'  fur  my  top-knot— widens.  Thar  's  so 
many  more  on  'em  layin'  fur  me  all  the  time,  thet  the 
prosju'cts  keeps  gittin'  brigliter  every  day  thet  by-an' 
by  they  '11  fetch  me.  The  arrant  I  'm  a-gwineon  now 
is  too  important  ter  take  any  resks  'bout.  I  'm  sartin 
to  git  the  information  thet  Gineral  Kosy  wants,  but 
whether  1  kin  git  hit  back  ter  him  is  ruther  duber- 
some.  I  must  hev  'some  help.  Will  ye  jine  in 
with  me  ( " 

"But  how  am  1  to  know  that  all  this  is  as  you 
say?'' 

"By  readin'  these  'ere  pa.sses,  all  signed  by  Gin- 
eral Rosencrans's  own  hand,  or  by  takin'  a  walk  with 
me  up  ter  headquartei*s,  whar  they  '11  tell  ye  thet  I  'm 
all  right,  an'  ez  straight  ez  a  string." 

••But  how  can  I  do  what  you  wnnt  ^  I  know 
nothing  of  the  country,  nor  the  people,  and  still  less 
of  this  kind  of  service.  I  would  probably  make  a 
blunder  that  would  spoil  all." 

'•  I  '11  resk  the  blundei-s.  Ye  kin  ride  critter-back, 
can't  ye?" 

Rachel  owned  that  she  was  a  pretty  fair  horse- 
woman. 

"  Then  all  ye  hev  ter  do  is  ter  git  yer.self  up  ez  ye 
see  the  young  women  who  are  ridin'  "round  heah,  an' 
airly  on  the  day  arter  to-morrow  mornin',  mount  a 


SECRET   SERVICE.  261 

blooded  mar  thct  yc  11  tind  .standin"  afore  the  door 
thar,  all  rigged  out  ez  fine  ez  silk,  an'  go  down  the 
Lavergne  turnpike,  at  a  sharp  canter,  jes  ez  though 
ye  war  gwine  somewhar.  Nobody  on  our  lines  Ml  be 
likely  ter  say  anything  ter  ye,  but  ef  they  do,  ye  '11 
show  'em  a  pass  from  Gineral  Rosy,  which,  howso- 
ever, ye  '11  tar  up  afore  ye  reach  Lavei'gne,  fur  ye  'II 
likely  tind  some  o'  t'  other  folks  thar.  Ef  any  o'  them 
at  Lavergne  axes  ye  inn)erent  questions,  ye  must  hev 
a  story  ready  'bout  yer  being  the  Nashville  niece  o' 
Aunt  Debby  Brill,  who  lives  on  the  left  hand  o'  the 
Nashville  pike,  jest  north  o'  the  public  squar  in  Mur- 
freesl)oro,  an'  ye  're  on  yer  way  ter  pay  yer  ole  Aunty 
a  long  promised  visit." 

"  There  is  such  a  woiiimu  in  Murfrecsljoro?  " 

"Yes,  an' she's  talked  a  great  deal  'bout  her  niece 
in  Nashville,  who  's  comin'  ter  see  her.  I  tiiought" — 
the  earnestness  of  the  eyes  relaxed  to  a  suspici(m  of  a 
twinkle — "  thet  sometime  I  mout  come  across  sich  a 
nii'ce  fur  the  ole  lady,  an'  hit  wuz  well  ter  be  pre- 
pared fur  her.'' 

''But  suppose  they  ask  me  al)out  things  in  Nasli- 
ville  ?  " 

"  Wll,  yc  must  fix  up  a  story  'bout  thet  too.  Ye 
needn't  be  very  partickelar  what  hit  is,  so  long's  hit's 
awful  savage  on  the  Yankees.  Be  keerful  ter  sa}' 
frequently  thet  the  Yankees  is  awful  sick  o'  their  job 
o'  holdin'  Nashville  ;  that  their  new  Dutch  Gineral  is 
a  mean  brute,  an'  a  coward  beside  ;  thet  he  's  skeered 
'bout  out 'n  his  wits  half  the  time,  an'  he 's  buildin' 
the  biggest  kind  o'  forts  to  hide  behind,  an'  thet  he 

CO 

won't  dar  show  his  nose  outside  o'  them  —  leastways 


262  TIIK    RKD    ACORN. 

not  this  \^vo  Wiiitor.  Talk  t-z  imicli  oz  ye  kin  'l)out 
the  sojers  rrwine  inter  AVintcr  (jiiarters  ;  'Ijout  them 
being  mortally  sartin  not  tcM-  do  anything  toll  next 
Spring,  an'  'bout  them  tlesartin*  by  rijimints  an'  brig- 
ades, an'  gwine  home,  bekasc  tlu'V  "re  siek  an'  tired  o' 
the  war." 

"^Sly,"  said  Kachel.  with  a  gasp.  '•  what  awful 
things  to  tell  !  *" 

"Yes,"  returned  the  seout  C()nii)lacently.  "I 
s'poscd  hit'd  strike  you  thet  away.  Hut  my  experi- 
ence with  war  is  tlict  hit  's  jot  plum  full  o'  awful 
things.  In  fart  hit  don't  seem  ter  hev  much  else  in 
hit.  All  ye  hev  ter  ax  yerself  is  whether  this  is  nigh 
on  ter  ez  awful  ez  the  things  they  'uns  do  to  we  *un>. 
Besides,  we  'uns  are  likely  ter  give  they  'uns  in  a  few 
day-  a  heap  more  interestin'  things  ter  think  about 
then  the  remarkable  stories  told  by  young  ladies  out 
fur  a  mornin'  ride." 

"Ill  take  some  hours  to  think  this  matter  over," 
said  Rachel,  "and  give  you  your  answer  this  after- 
noon.    That  '11  be  time  enough,  will  it  not  ? '' 

'•Heai)s  an' plenty,  ma'am,"  he  answered,  as  he 
rose  to  go.  "  She  '11  go,"  he  added  to  himself.  '•  I  "m 
not  fooled  a  mite  on  thet  'ere  stock.  I'll  jest  go  to 
headquarters  an'  git  things  ready  for  her" 

He  was  right.  The  i)rospect  of  doing  an  impor- 
tant service  on  a  grand  occasion  was  stimulus  enough 
for  Rachel's  daring  spirit,  to  make  her  undertake 
anything,  and  when  Fortncr  returned  in  the  after- 
noon he  found  her  eager  to  set  out  upon  the  enter- 
prise. 


SECRET   SERVICE.  263 

But  as  the  eveniiiir  c:iine  on  with  its  depressing 
shadows  and  silence,  she  felt  the  natural  reaction  that 
follows  taking  an  irrevocable  step.  The  loneliness  of 
her  unlighted  room  was  peopled  with  ghostly  mem- 
ories of  the  horrors  inflicted  upon  spies,  and  of  tales 
she  had  heard  of  the  merciless  cruelty  of  the  Rebels 
among  whom  she  was  going.  She  had  to  hold  her 
breath  to  keep  from  shrieking  aloud  at  the  terrors 
conjured  u})  before  her  vision.  Then  the  spasm  passed, 
and  braver  thoughts  reasserted  themselves.  Fortuer's 
inadvertent  words  of  praise  of  Harry  Glen  were 
recalled,  and  began  glowing  like  pots  of  incense  to 
sweeten  and  purify  the  choking  vapors  in  her  imag- 
inati(m. 

Could  it  be  that  Harry  had  really  retrieved  him- 
self? He  had  certainly  gained  tiie  not -easily -won 
admiration  of  this  brave  man,  and  it  had  all  been  to 
render  himself  worthy  of  her  !  There  was  rapture  in 
the  thought.  Then  her  own  heroic  aspirations  welled 
up  again,  bringing  intoxication  at  the  prospect  of 
ending  the  distasteful  routine  of  nursing,  by  taking 
an  active  part  in  what  would  be  a  grand  event  of  his- 
tory. Fears  and  misgivings  vanislied  like  the  mists 
of  the  morning.  She  thought  only  of  how  to  accom- 
plish her  mission. 

She  lighted  a  candle  and  wrote  four  letters  —  one 
to  her  mother,  one  to  Dr.  Denslow,  one  to  Harry 
Glen  in  care  of  his  mother,  and  one  to  the  Hospital 
Steward,  asking  him  to  mail  the  letters  in  case  he 
did  not  receive  any  contrary  request  from  her  before 
the  10th  of  January. 


264  THE    RKD   ACORN. 

She  was  too  excited  to  sleep  in  the  early  p-irt  of  the 
night,  and  busied  her  waking  hours  in  packing  her 
clothing  and  books,  and  maturing  her  plans. 

She  had  much  concern  about  her  wardrobe.  Never 
in  all  the  days  of  her  village  belleship  had  she  been 
so  anxious  to  be  well-dressed  as  now,  when  about  to 
embark  upon  the  greatest  act  of  her  life.  She  planned 
and  schemed  as  women  will  in  sueh  times,  and  rising 
early  the  next  morning  she  visited  the  stores  in  the 
city,  and  procured  the  material  for  a  superb  riding 
habit,  A  cutter  from  a  fashionable  establishment  in 
Cincinnati  was  found  in  an  Orderly  Sergeant  in  one 
of  the  convalescent  wards,  and  enough  tailors 
responded  to  tlie  call  for  such  artisans,  to  give  him 
all  the  help  required  By  evening  she  was  provided 
with  a  hal)it  that,  in  material  and  that  sovereign  but 
indescribable  quality  called  "style,"  was  superior  to 
those  worn  by  the  young  ladies  who  cantered  about 
the  streets  of  Nashville  on  clean-limbed  thorough- 
breds. 

As  she  stood  surve3'ing  the  exquisite  ''set"  of  the 
garment  in  such  mirrors  as  she  could  procure,  she 
said  to  herself  quizzically  : 

"I  feel  now  that  the  expedition  is  going  to  be  a 
grand  success.  No  woman  could  fail  being  a  heroine 
in  such  an  inspiration  of  a  dress.  There  is  a  moral 
support  and  encouragement  about  a  perfectly  made 
garment  that  is  hardly  equaled  by  a  clear  conscience 
and  righteousness  of  motive." 

The  next  morning  she  came  forth  from  her  room 
attired  for  the  journey.  A  jaunty  hat  and  feather  sat 
gi'Ecefully  above  her  tace.  to  which  excitement  had 


SECRET   SERVICE.  205 

given  a  strikino;  animation.  One  trimly-gauntleted 
hand  carried  a  dainty  whip  ;  the  other  supported  the 
long  skirts  of  her  riding  hal)it  as  she  moved  through 
the  ward  with  such  a  newly-added  grace  and  beauty 
that  the  patients,  to  whom  her  appearance  had  become 
familiar,  raised  in  tlieir  beds  to  follow  the  lovely  spec- 
tacle witii  their  eyes,  and  then  turned  to  each  other  to 
comment  upon  lier  beauty. 

At  the  door  slie  foimd  an  orderly,  holding  a  spir- 
ited young  mare,  handsome  enough  for  a  Queen's 
palfrey,  and  richly  caparisoned. 

She  sprang  into  the  saddle  and  adjusted  her  seat 
with  the  easy  grace  of  an  accomplished  horsewoman. 

A  squad  of  "  Convalescents  ''  standing  outside,  and 
and  a  group  of  citizens  watched  her  with  an  admira- 
tion too  palpable  for  her  to  be  unconscious  of  it. 

She  smiled  pleasantly  upon  tlie  soldiers,  and  gave 
them  a  farewell  bow  as  she  turned  the  mare's  head 
away,  to  which  they  responded  with  cheers. 

A  few  hundred  yards  further,  where  an  angle  in 
the  street  would  take  her  from  their  view,  she  lurned 
around  again  and  waved  her  handkerchief  to  them. 
The  boys  gave  her  another  ringing  cheer,  with  waving 
hats  and  handkerchiefs  ;  her  steed  broke  into  a  canter 
and  she  disappeared  from  view. 

"  Where  is  she  going?  "  asked  one  of  the  soldiers. 

"I  don't  know,"  responded  another  gallantly;  "but 
wherever  it  is,  it  will  be  better  than  here,  just  because 
she's  there." 

The  sight  of  an  orderly,  coming  with  the  morning 
mail,  ended  the  discussion  by  scattering  the  squad  in 
a  hurry. 

12 


266  THE    RED    ACORN. 

Rachel  cantered  on,  her  spirits  rising  continually. 

It  was  a  bright,  crisp  morning  —  a  Tennessee 
Winter  morning  —  when  the  air  is  as  wine  to  the 
blood,  and  sets  every  pulse  to  leaping.  Dt-licate  bal- 
samic scents  floated  down  from  groves  of  shapely 
cedars.  Gratefully-astringent  odors  were  wafted  from 
the  red  oaks,  ranked  Ui)on  the  hillsides  and  still  cov- 
ered with  their  leaves,  now  turned  bright-brown,  mak- 
ing them  appear  like  serried  phalanges  of  giant 
knights,  clad  in  rusted  scale  armor.  The  spicy  smell 
of  burning  cedar  rose  on  the  lazily-curling  smoke 
from  a  thousand  camp-fires.  The  red-berried  holly 
looked  as  fresh  and  bright  as  rose-bushes  in  June,  and 
the  magnolias  still  wore  their  liveries  of  Spring.  The 
sun  shone  down  with  a  tender  fervor,  as  if  wooing 
the  sleeping  buds  and  flowers  to  wake  from  a  slumber 
of  which  he  had  grown  weary,  and  start  with  him 
again  through  primrose  paths  on  the  pilgrimage  of 
blossoming  and  fruitage. 

RacheFs  nostrils  expanded,  and  she  drank  deeply 
of  the  exhilarating  draughts  of  mountain  air,  with  its 
delicious  woodsy  fragrance.  Her  steed  did  the  same, 
and  the  hearts  of  both  swelled  with  the  inspiration. 

Away  she  sped  over  the  firm,  smooth  ]\Iurfrees- 
boro  Pike,  winding  around  hillsides  and  through  val- 
leys filled  with  infantry,  cavalry  and  artillery,  through 
interminable  masses  of  wagons,  herds  of  braying 
mules,  and  crowds  of  unarmed  soldiers  trudging  back 
to  Nashville,  on  leave  of  absence,  to  spend  the  day 
seeing  the  sights  of  the  historic  Tennessee  capital. 
In  the  camps  the  soldiers  were  busy  with  evergreen 
and  bunting,  and  the  contents  of  boxes  received  from 


SECRET   SERVICE.  267 

the  North,  preparing  for  the  celebration  of  Christmas 
in  something  like  the  manner  of  the  old  days  of  home 
and  peace. 

Like  the  sweet  perfume  of  rose-attar  from  a  bun 
(lie  of  letters  unwittingly  stirred  in  a  drawer,  rose 
the  fragrant  memory  of  the  last  of  those  Christmascs 
in  Sardis  before  the  war,  when  winged  on  the  scent 
of  evergreens,  and  the  merry  laughter  of  the  church 
decorators,  came  to  her  the  knowledge  that  she  had 
found  a  lodgment  in  the  heart  of  Harry  Glen. 

Was  memory  juggling  with  her  senses,  or  was 
that  really  his  voice  she  heard  in  command,  in  a  field 
to  her  left?  She  turned  a  swift,  startled  look  in  that 
direction,  and  saw  a  Sergeant  marching  a  large  squad 
at  quick  time  to  join  a  heavy  ''detail.''  His  back  was 
toward  her,  but  his  figure  and  bodily  carriage  were 
certainly  those  of  Plarry  Glen.  But  before  she  could 
make  certain  the  squad  was  merged  with  the  "detail," 
to  the  obliteration  of  all  individuality,  and  the  whole 
mass  disappeared  around  the  hill. 

She  rode  on  to  the  top  of  the  rim  of  hills  which 
encircle  that  most  picturesque  of  Southern  cities,  and 
stopjied  for  a  moment  for  a  farewell  to  the  stronghold 
of  her  friends,  whose  friendly  cover  she  was  abandon- 
ing to  venture,  weak  and  weaponless,  into  the  camp 
of  her  enemies. 

Above  her  the  gi-eat  black  guns  of  a  heavy  fort 
pointed  their  sinister  muzzles  down  the  Murfreesboro 
road,  with  fearful  suggestiveness  of  the  dangers  to  be 
encountered  there. 

She  remembered  Lot's  wife,  but  could  not  resist 
the  temptation  to  take  a  one  backward  look.     She 


2fi8  THE     RED   ACORN. 

f?;iw  MS  grand  a  landscape  picture  as  the  world  af- 
fords. 

Serenely  throned  upon  the  hill  that  dominated 
the  whole  of  the  lovely  valley  of  the  Cumberland, 
stood  the  beautiful  Capitol  of  Tennessee. 

Ionic  porticos  and  graceful  Corinthian  columns  of 
dazzling  white  limestone  rose  hundreds  of  feet  above 
the  fountains  and  magnolia-shaded  terraces  that 
crowned  the  hill — still  more  hundreds  of  feet  above 
the  densely  packed  roofs  and  spires  of  the  city 
crowded  upon  the  hill's  rocky  sides  It  was  like 
some  fine  and  pure  old  Greek  temple,  standing  on  a 
romantic  headhmd,  far  above  the  murk  and  toil  of 
sordid  striving.  But  over  the  symmetrical  pile  floated 
a  banner  that  meant  to  the  world  all  that  was  signi- 
fied even  by  the  banners  which  Greece  folded  and 
laid  away  in  eternal  rest  thousands  of  years  ago. 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill  the  Cumberland,  clear  as 
when  it  descended  from  its  mountains  five  hundred 
miles  away,  flowed  between  its  high,  straight  walls 
of  limestone,  spanned  by  cobweb-like  bridges,  and 
bore  on  its  untroul)led  breast  a  great  fleet  of  high- 
chiumoyed,  white-sided  transports,  and  black,  sullen 
gunboats.  Miles  away  to  her  left  she  saw  the  trains 
rushing  into  Nashville,  unrolling  as  they  came  long 
black  and  white  ribbons  against  the  sky. 

"They're  coming  from  the  North,'"'  she  said,  with 
an  involuntary  sigh  ;  ''  they're  coming  from  home." 

She  touched  her  mare's  flank  with  the  whip  and 
sped  on. 

She  soon  reached  the  outer  line  of  guards,  by 
whom  she  was  halted,  with  a  demand  for  her  pass. 


SECRET   SERVICE,  269 

She  produced  the  one  furnished  her,  which  was  signed 
by  Gen.  Rosencrans.  While  the  Sergeant  was  in- 
specting it  it  occurred  to  her  that  now  was  the  time 
to  begin  the  rdle  of  a  young  woman  with  rebellious 
proclivities. 

"Is  this  the  last  guard-line  I  will  have  to  pass?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Yes'm,'*  answered  the  Sergeant. 
"  You're  quite  sure  ?  " 
"  Yes'ni."  ■ 

"Then  I  won't  have  any  further  use  for  this— 
thing  ? "  indicating  the  pass,  which  she  received  back 
with  fine  loathing,  as  if  it  were  something  infec- 
tious. 

"No'm." 
"Quite  sure?" 
"  Yes'm,  quite  sure." 

She  rode  over  to  the  fire  around  which  part  of 
the  guard  were  sitting,  held  the  pass  over  it  by  the 
extremest  tips  of  her  dainty  thumb  and  forefinger, 
and  then  dropped  it  upon  the  coals,  as  if  it  were  a 
rag  from  a  small-pox  hospital.  Glancing  at  her  fin- 
ger-tips an  instant,  as  if  they  had  been  permanently 
contaminated  by  the  scrawl  of  the  Yankee  General, 
she  touched  her  nag,  and  was  off  like  an  arrow  with- 
out so  much  as  good  day  to  the  guards. 

"  She-cesh— clean  to  her  blessed  little  toe-nails," 
said  the  Sergeant,  gazing  after  her  meditatively,  as 
he  fished  around  in  his  pouch  for  a  handful  of  Kinni- 
kinnick,  to  replenish  his  pipe,  "  and  she's  purtier'n  a 
picture,  too." 

"Them's  the  kind  that's  always  the  wust  Rebels," 


270  TfiE  ri:d  acokn. 

said  the  oracle  of  the  sqnad.  from  his  .seat  by  the  fire. 
"I'll  bet  she's  just  loaded  down  Avith  information  or 
ouinine.     Mebbe  both." 

She  was  now  fairly  in  the  enemy's  country,  and 
her  heart  beat  faster  in  momentar}'  expectation  of  en- 
countering^ some  form  of  the  perils  abounding  there. 
But  she  became  calm,  almost  joyous,  as  she  pas.sed 
through  mile  after  mile  of  tranquil  landscape.  The 
war  might  as  well  have  been  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Atlantic  for  any  hint  .she  now  .saw  of  it  in  the  peace- 
ful, sun-lit  fields  and  woods,  and  streams  of  crystal 
spring-water.  She  saw  women  busily  engaged  in 
their  morning  work  about  all  the  cabins  and  houses. 
With  bare  and  sinewy  arms  they  beat  up  and  down 
in  tiresomely  monotonous  stroke  the  long-handled 
da.shers  of  cedarn  churns  standing  in  the  wide,  open 
•'entries"  of  the  '' dolible-houses  ;  "  they  arrayed 
their  well-scalded  milk  crocks  and  jars  where  the  sun's 
rays  would  still  further  sweeten  them  ;  they  plied 
swift  shuttles  in  the  weaving  sheds ;  they  toiled  over 
great,  hemi.^pherical  kettles  of  dye-stuffs  or  soap,  swing- 
ing from  poles  over  open  fires  in  the  yard  ;  1hey 
spread  out  long  webs  of  jeans  and  linen  on  the  grass 
to  dry  or  bleach,  and  all  the  while  they  .'^ang — sang 
the  measured  rhythm  of  familiar  hymns  in  the  high 
soprano  of  white  women  sang  wild,  plaintive  lyrics 
in  the  liquid  contralto  of  negresses.  Men  were  re- 
pairing fences,  and  doing  other  Winter  work  in  the 
fields,  and  from  the  woods  came  the  ringing  staccato 
of  choppers.  She  met  on  the  road  leisurely-traveling 
negro  women,  who  louted  low  to  her,  and  then  as  she 
passed,  turned  to  gaze  after  her  with  feminine  analy- 


SECRET    SERVICE.  271 

sis  and  admiration  for  every  detail  of  iier  attire. 
Then  came  "Uncle  Tom"  looking  men,  driving 
wagons  loaded  with  newly-riven  rails,  breathing  the 
virile  pungency  of  freshly-cut  oak.  Occasionally  an 
old  white  man  or  woman  rode  by,  greeting  her  with 
a  courteous  "Howdy  ?  " 

The  serenity  everywhere  intoxicated  her  with  a 
half-belief  that  the  terrible  Rebel  army  at  Murfrees- 
boro  was  only  a  nightmare  of  fear-oppressed  brains, 
and  in  her  relief  she  was  ready  to  burst  out  in  echo 
of  a  triumphant  hymn  ringing  from  a  weaving-shed 
at  her  right. 

Her  impulse  was  checked  by  seeing  approach  a 
figure  harshly  dissonant  to  Arcadian  surroundings 

It  was  a  young  man  riding  a  powerful  roan  horse 
at  an  easy  gallop,  and  carrying  in  his  hand,  ready  foi- 
instant  use,  a  16-shooting  Henry  rifle.  He  Avas  evi- 
dently a  scout,  but,  as  was  usual  with  that  class,  his 
uniform  was  so  equally  made  up  of  blue  and  gray 
that  it  was  impossible  to  tell  to  which  side  he  be- 
longed. He  reined  up  as  he  saw  Rachel,  and  looked 
at  her  for  a  moment  in  a  way  that  chilled  her.  They 
were  now  on  a  lonely  bit  of  road,  out  of  sight  and 
hearing  of  any  person  or  house.  All  a  woman's  fears 
rose  up  in  her  heart,  but  she  shut  her  lips  firmly,  and 
rode  directly  toward  the  scout.  Another  thought 
seemed  to  enter  his  mind,  he  touched  his  horse  up 
with  his  heel,  and  rode  by  her,  saying  courteously  : 

"Good  morning.  Miss,"  but  eyeing  her  intently 
as  they  passed.  She  returned  the  salutation  with  a 
firm  voice,  and  rode  onward,  but  at  a  little  distance 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  turn  and  look  back- 


272  THE    RED    ACORN. 

ward.  To  her  horror  the  scout  had  stopped,  half 
turned  his  horse,  and  was  watching  her  as  if  debating 
whether  or  not  to  come  l)at'k  after  her.  She  yielded 
to  the  impulse  of  fear,  struck  her  mare  a  stiniring 
blow,  and  the  animal  flew  away. 

Her  fright  sul)si(led  as  she  heard  no  hoof-l)eats 
following  iier,  and  when  she  raised  her  eyes,  she  saw 
that  she  was  approaching  the  village  of  Lavcrgne, 
half-wa}-  to  Murfreesboro,  and  that  a  party  of  Rebel 
cavalry  were  moving  toward  her.  She  felt  less  tre- 
mor at  this  Hrsl  sight  of  the  armed  enemy  than  she 
had  expected,  after  her  panic  over  the  scout,  and  rode 
towanl  the  horsemen  with  perfect  outward,  and  no 
little  inward  coinposure. 

The  Lieutenant  in  command  raised  his  hat  with 
the  greatest  gallantry. 

''  Good  morning.  Miss.  From  the  city.  I  suppose  ?" 
he  inquired. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  in  tones  as  even  as  if  speak- 
ing in  a  parlor  ;  "  fortunately.  I  am  at  last  from  the 
city.  I  have  been  trying  to  get  away  ever  since  it 
seemed  hopeless  that  our  people  would  not  redeem  it 
soon." 

The  conversation  thus  opened  was  carried  on  by 
Rachel  giving  copious  and  disparaging  information 
concerning  the  "  Yankees,"  and  tlie  Lieutenant  listen- 
ing inlidmiration  to  the  musical  accents,  interrupting 
them  but  rarely  to  interject  a  question  or  a  favorable 
comment.  He  was  as  little  cntical  as  ardent  young 
men  are  apt  to  be  of  the  statements  of  captivating 
young  women,  and  Rachel's  spirits  rose  as  she  saw 
that  the  worst  she  had  to  fear  from  this  enemy  was 


SECRET   SERVICE.  2^3 

an  excess  of  devotion.  The  story  of  her  aunt  at 
Murfrcesboro  received  unhesitating  acceptance,  and 
nothing  but  imperative  scouting  orders  prevented  his 
escorting  her  to  the  town.  He  would,  however,  send 
a  non-commissioned  officer  with  her,  who  would  see 
that  she  was  not  molested  by  any  one.  He  requested 
permission  to  call  upon  her  at  her  aunt's,  which 
Kachel  was  compelled  to  grant,  for  lack  of  any  readv 
excuse  for  such  a  contingency.  With  this,  and  manV 
smiles  and  bows,  they  parted. 

All  the  afternoon  she  rode  through  camps  of  n)en 
in  gray  and  butternut,  as  she  had  ridden  throu-h 
those  of  men  in  blue  in  the  morning.  I„  these,  as  In 
he  others,  she  heard  gay  songs,  dance  music  and 
laughter,  and  saw  thousands  of  merry  boy.s  rollickincr 
in  the  sunshine  at  games  of  ball  and  other  sports° 
with  the  joyous  earnestness  of  a  school-house  play- 
ground. She  tried,  but  in  vain,  to  realize  that  in  a 
te^y  days  these  thoughtless  youths  would  be  the  de- 
mons of  the  battle-field. 

Just   before  dusk  she  came  to  the  top  of  a  low 
linmstone  ridge,  and  saw,  three  miles  awav,  the  lights 
ot  Murfreesboro.     At  that  moment  Fortner  appeared 
.jogging  leisurely  towai<l  her,  mounted  on  a  splendid 

-O  there 's  my  Cousin  Jim  !  "  she  exclaimed  glee- 
fully, "  coming  to  meet  me.  Sergeant,  I  am  deeply 
obliged  to  you  and  to  your  Lieutenant,  for  your  com- 
pany, and  I  will  try  to  show  my  appreciation  of  it  in 
the  tuture  in  some  way  more  substantial  than  words 
You  need  not  go  any  farther  with  me.  I  know  that 
both  you  and  your  horse  are  very  tired.     Good  by  " 


274  THE    RED    ACOliX. 

The  Serjeant  was  only  too  glad  of  this  release, 
which  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  get  back  to  camp, 
to  enjoy  some  good  cheer  that  he  knew  was  there, 
and  bidding  a  hasty  good-night,  he  left  at  a  trot. 

Fortner  and  Rachel  rode  on  slowly  up  the  pike, 
traversing  the  gi*ound  that  was  soon  to  run  red  with 
the  blood  of  thousands. 

They  talked  of  the  fearful  probabilities  of  the  next 
few  days,  and  hailed  for  some  minutes  on  the  bridge 
across  Stone  River,  to  study  the  wonderfully  pictur- 
esque scene  spread  out  before  them.  The  dusk  was 
just  closing  down.  The  scowling  darkness  seemed  to 
catch  around  woods  and  trees  and  nouses,  and  grow 
into  monsters  of  vast  and  somber  bulk,  swelling  and 
spreading  like  the  "gin"  which  escaped  from  the 
copper  can,  in  the  "Arabian  Nights,"  until  they 
touched  each  other,  coalesced  and  covered  the  whole 
land.  Far  away,  at  the  edge  of  the  valley,  the  tops 
of  the  hills  rose,  distinctly  lighted  by  the  last  rays 
of  the  dying  day,  as  if  some  strip  of  country  resisting 
to  the  last  the  invasion  of  the  dark  monsters. 

A  half-mile  in  front  of  the  bridge  was  the  town  of 
Murfreesboro.  Bright  lights  streamed  from  thousands 
of  windows  and  from  bonfires  in  the  streets.  Church 
bells  rang  out  the  glad  acclaim  of  Christmas  from 
a  score  of  steeples.  The  happy  voices  of  childhood 
singing  Christmas  carols  ;  the  laughter  of  youths  and 
maidens  strolling  arm  in  arm  through  the  streets ; 
the  cheery  songs  of  merr}— making  negroes;  silver- 
throated  bands,  with  throbbing  drums  and  gently- 
complaining  flutes,  playing  martial  airs  ;  long  lines  of 
gleaming  camp-fires,  stretching  over  the  undulating 


SECRET   SERVICE.  275 

valley  and  rising  hills  like  necklaces  of  burning  jewels 
on  the  breast  of  night, — this  was  what  held  them 
silent  and  motionless. 

Rachel  at  last  spoke  : 

"It  is  like  a. scene  of  enchantment.  It  is  more 
wonderful  than  anything  T  ever  read  of." 

"Yes'm,  hit's  moiity  strikin'  now,  an'  when  ye 
think  how  hit '11  all  be  changed  in  a  little  while  ter 
more  misery  then  thar  is  this  side  o'  hell,  hit  becomes 
all  the  more  strikin'.  Hit  seems  ter  me  somethin' 
like  what  I've  heered  'em  read  'bout  in  the  Bible, 
wliar  they  went  on  feastin'  an'  singin',  an'  dancin'  an' 
frolickin',  an'  the  like,  an'  at  midnight  the  inimy 
broke  through  the  walls  of  ther  city,  an'  put  'cm  all 
ter  the  sword,  even  while  they  wuz  settin'  round  thar 
tables,  with  ther  drinkin'  cups  in  ther  hands." 

'•To  think  what  a  storm  is  about  to  break  upon 
this  scene  of  haf)piness  and  mirth  -  making  !"  said 
Rachel,  with  a  shudder. 

"Yes,  an'  they  seem  ter  want  ter  do  the  very 
things  thet'll  show  ther  contempt  o'  righteousness, 
an'  provoke  the  wrath  o'  the  Lord.  Thar,  where  ye 
see  thct  house,  all  lit  up  from  the  basement  ter  the 
look-out  on  the  ruf,  is  whar  one  o'  the  most  'ristocratic 
families  in  all  Tennessee  lives.  Ther  datter  is  bein' 
married  to-night,  an'  Major-Gineral  Polk,  the  biggest 
gun  in  all  these  'ere  parts,  next  ter  ole  Bragg,  an'  who 
is  also  'Piscopalian  Bishop  o'  Tennessee,  does  the 
splicin'.  They  Ve  got  ther  parlors,  Avhar  they  '11  dance, 
carpeted  with  'Merican  flags,  so  thet  the  young  bucks 
an'  gals  kin  show  ther  despisery  of  the  banner  thet 
wuz  good  enough  for  ther  fathers,  by  trampin'  over 


276  THE  RED  Aconx. 

hit  all  night.  But  we  '11  show  hit  tor  'em  in  a  day  or 
two  whar  they  won't  feel  like  cuttin'  pigeon-wing.s 
over  hit.  Ye  jes  stand  still  an'  see  the  salvation  o' 
the  Lord." 

"I  hope  we  will."'  said  Rachel,  her  horror  of  the 
storm  that  was  about  to  break  giving  away  to  indig- 
nation at  the  treatment  of  her  country's  flag.  "  Shan't 
we  go  on  ?  My  long  ride  has  made  me  very  tired 
and  very  hungry,  and  I  know  my  horse  is  the  same." 

Shortly  after  crossing  the  river  they  passed  a  large 
tent,  with  a  number  of  others  clustered  around  it. 
All  were  festooned  with  Rebel  flags,  and  brilliantly 
lighted.  A  band  came  up  in  front  of  the  principal 
one  and  played  the  "'Bonnie  Blue  Flag." 

••'Thet's  ole  Gineral  Brag<r's  headquarters,"  ex- 
plained Fortner.  "  He  '_s  the  king  bee  of  all  the  Rebels 
in  these  heah  parts,  an'  they  think  he  kin  'bout  make 
the  sun  stand  still  cf  he  wants  ter," 

They  cantered  on  into  the  town,  and  going  more 
slowly  through  the  great  public  square  and  the  more 
crowded  streets,  came  at  last  to  a  modest  house,  stand- 
ing on  a  corner,  and  nearly  hidden  by  vines  and 
shrubbery. 

A  i)eculiar  knock  caused  the  door  to  open  quickly, 
and  befoi-e  Rachel  was  hardly  aware  of  it,  she  was 
standing  inside  a  comfortable  room,  so  well  lighted 
that  her  eyes  took  some  little  time  to  get  used  to  such 
a  change. 

When  they  did  so  she  saw  that  she  was  in  the 
presence  of  a  slender,  elderly  woman,  whose  face 
charmed  her. 

"This  is  ver  Aunt  Debbv  Brill,"   said   Fortner, 


SECRET   SERVICE.  277 

dryly,  "who  j^e  came  so  fur  far  ter  see,  an'  who's 
bin  'spectin'  ye  quite  anxiously." 

"  Ye  're  very  welcome,  my  clear,"  said  Aunt 
Debby,  after  a  moment's  inspection  which  seemed  to 
be  entirely  satisfactory.  "Jest  lay  oflf  yer  things  thar 
on  the  bed,  an'  come  out  ter  supper.  I  know  ye  're 
sharp-set.  A  ride  from  Nashville  sech  a  day  ez  this 
is  mouty  good  for  the  appetite,  an'  we  've  hcd  supper 
waitin'  3-0." 

Hastily  throwing  off  her  hat  and  gloves,  she  sat 
down  with  the  rest,  to  a  homely  but  excellent  supper, 
which  they  all  ate  in  silence.  During  the  meal  a 
muscular,  well  knit  man  of  thirty  entered. 

"All  clar,  outside,  Bill?  "  asked  Fortner. 

"Allclar,"  replied  the  man.  "Everybody's  ofl 
on  a  high  o'  some  kind." 

Bill  sat  down  and  ate  with  the  rest,  until  he  satis- 
fied his  hunger,  and  then  rising  he  felt  along  the 
hewed  logs  which  formed  the  walls,  until  he  found  a 
splinter  to  serve  as  a  tooth-pick.  Using  this  for  a 
minute  industriously,  he  threw  it  into  the  fire  and 
asked  : 

"Well?" 

"Well,"  answered  Fortner.  "  I  reckon  hit 's  ez 
sartin  ez  anything  kin  well  be  thet  Wheeler's  and 
Morgan's  cavalry  hez  been  sent  off  inter  Kentucky, 
and  ez  thet 's  what  Ole  Rosy's  been  waitin'  fur,  now's 
the  time  fur  him  ter  put  in  his  best  licks.  Ye'd  better 
start  afore  midnight  fur  Nashville.  Ye '11  hev  this 
news,  an'  also  thet  thar  's  been  no  change  in  the  loca- 
tion o'  the  Rebels,  'cept  thet  Polk's  an'  Kirby  Smith's 
corps  are  both  heah  at  Murfreesboro,  with  a  strong 


278  THE   RED  ACORN. 

brigade  at  Stewart's  creek,  an'  another  at  Lavergne. 
Ye'd  better  fall  in  with  Boscall's  rijiinent,  which'll  go 
out  ter  Lavergne  to-night,  ter  relieve  one  o'  the  riji- 
ments  thar.  Ye  'd  better  not  try  to  git  back  heah 
ag'in  tell  arter  the  battle.  Good  by.  God  bless  ye. 
Miss,  ye'd  better  git  ter  bed  now,  ez  soon  ez  possible, 
an'  rest  yerself  far  what 's  coniin'.  We  '11  need  every 
mite  an'  grain  of  our  strength." 


THE  BATTLE   OF   STONE   RIVER.  279 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE  BATTLE   OF  STONE   RIVER. 

O,  wherefore  come  ye  forth,  In  triumph  from  the  North, 
With  your  hands  and  your  feet,  and  your  raiment  all  red? 

And  wherefore  doth  your  rout,  send  forth  a  joyous  shout? 
And  whence  be  the  grapes  of  the  wine-press  that  ye  tread? 

O,  evil  was  the  root,  and  bitter  was  the  fruit, 
And  crimson  was  the  Juice  of  the  vintage  that  we  trod; 

For  we  trampled  on  the  throng,  of  the  haughty  and  the  strong, 
Who  sat  In  the  high  places  and  slew  the  saints  of  God. 


They  are  here — they  rush  on — we  are  broken — we  are  gone — 
Our  left  Is  borne  before  them  like  stubble  on  the  blast. 

O,  Lord,  put  forth  thy  might'.     O,  Lord,  defend  the  right! 
Stand  back  to  back.  In  God's  name!  and  fight  It  to  the  last. 

—"  Battle  of  Naseby r 

THE  celebration  of  Christmas  in  the  camps  around 
Nashville  was  abruptly  terminated  by  the  recep- 
tion of  orders  to  march  in  the  morning,  with  full  hav- 
ersacks and  cartridge-boxes.  The  next  day  all  the 
roads  leading  southward  became  as  rivers  flowing 
armed  men.  Endless  streams  of  blue,  thickly  glinted 
everywhere  with  bright  and  ominous  steel,  wound 
around  the  hills,  poured  over  the  plains,  and  spread 
out  into  angry  lakes  wherever  a  Rebel  outpost  checked 
the  flow  for  a  few  minutes. 

Four  thousand  troopers  under  the  heroic  Stanley 
— the  foam-crest  on  the  war-billow — dashed  on  in  ad- 
vance. Twelve  thousand  steadily-moving  infantry 
under  the  luckless  McCook,  poured  down  the  Frank- 


280  THE   RED   ACORN. 

lin  turnpike,  miles  away  to  the  right :  twelve  thou- 
sand more  streamed  down  the  Mnrfreesboro  pike  on 
the  left,  with  the  banner  of  the  over-weighted  Crit- 
tenden, while  grand  old  Thomas,  he  whose  trumpets 
never  sounded  forth  retreat,  but  always  called  to  vic- 
tory, moved  steadfast  as  a  glacier  in  the  center,  with 
as  many  more,  a  sure  support  and  help  to  those  on 
either  hand. 

The  mighty  war-wave  rolling  up  the  broad  plateau 
of  the  Cumberland  was  fifteen  miles  wide  now.  It 
would  be  less  than  a  third  of  that  when  it  gathered 
itself  together  for  its  mortal  dash  upon  the  rocks  of 
rebellion  at  Murfreesboro. 

It  was  Friday  morning  that  the  wave  began  roll- 
ing southward.  All  day  Friday,  and  Saturday,  and 
Sunday,  and  Monday  it  rolled  steadily  onward,  sweep- 
ing before  it  tlie  enemy "s  pickets  and  outposts  as  dry 
sand  by  an  incoming  tide.  Monday  evening  the  lead- 
ing divisions  stood  upon  the  ridge  where  Rachel  and 
Fortner  had  stood,  and  looked  as  they  did  upon  the 
lights  of  Murfreesboro,  two  miles  away. 

"Two  days  from  to-morrow  is  New  Year's,"  said 
Kent  Edwards.  "Dear  Festival  of  Egg-Nogg  !  how 
sweet  are  thy  memories.  I  hope  the  Tennessee  hens 
are  doing  their  duty  this  Winter,  so  that  we'll  have 
no  trouble  finding  eggs  when  we  get  into  Murfrees- 
boro to-morrow." 

"We  are  likely  to  be  so  busy  tendering  the  com- 
pliments of  the  season  to  Mr.  Bragg,"  said  Harry. 
lightl}^  "that  we  will  probably  have  but  little  time 
to  make  calls  upon  the  lady-hens  who  keep  open 
nests." 


THE    BATTLE    OF   STONE    RIVER.  281 

"  We  all  may  be  where  we'lJ  need  lots  o'  cold  wa- 
ter more  than  anything  else/'  said  Abe  grimly. 

"  Well,''  said  Kent  blithely,  ''if  I'm  to  be  made  a 
sweet  little  angel  I  don't  know  any  day  that  I  would 
rather  have  for  my  promotion  to  date  from.  It 
would  have  a  very  proper  look  to  put  in  the  full  year 
here  on  earth,  and  start  in  with  the  neAv  one  in  a 
world  of  sui)crior  attractions. '' 

"Well,  I  declare,  if  here  isn't  Dr.  Denslow,"  said 
Harry,  delightedly,  as  he  recognized  a  horseman, 
who  rode  up  to  them.  "  How  did  you  come  here  ? 
We  thought  30U  were  permanently  stationed  at  the 
grand  hospital." 

"  So  I  was,"  replied  the  Doctor.  ''  So  I  was,  at 
least  so  far  as  general  orders  could  do  it.  But  I  felt 
that  I  could  not  be  away  from  my  boys  at  this  su- 
preme moment,  and  I  am  here,  though  the  irregular 
way  in  which  I  detached  myself  from  my  post  may 
require  explanation  to  a  court-martial.  Anyhow,  it 
is  a  grateful  relief  to  be  away  from  the  smell  of  chlo- 
ride of  lime,  and  get  a  breath  of  fresh  air  that  is  not 
mingled  with  the  groans  of  a  ward-full  of  sick  men. 
It  looks,"  he  continued,  with  a  comprehensive  glance 
at  the  firmament  of  Rebel  camp-fires  that  made  Mur- 
freesboro  seem  the  center  of  a  ruddy  Milky- way,  "  as 
if  the  grand  climax  is  at  last  at  hand.  Bragg,  like 
the  worm,  will  at  last  turn,  and  after  a  year  of  foot- 
races we'll  have  a  fight  which  will  settle  who  is  the 
superfluous  cat  in  this  alley.  There  is  certainly  one 
too  many. " 

"The   sooner  it  comes   the  better,"  said  Harry, 
firmly.     "It  has  to  be  sometime,  and   I'm  getting 

12* 


ZOJi  THE    liKD    ACUUX. 

very  anxious  for  an  end  to  this  eternal  marchinfr  and 
coimterniarcliing. " 

"My  winsome  little  feet,"  Kent  Edwards  put  in. 
plaintively,  "  are  knobby  as  a  bursflar-proof  safe,  with 
corns  and  bunions,  all  of  them  more  tender  than  a 
maiden's  heart,  and  painful  as  a  mistake  in  a  poker 
liand.  They're  the  ripe  fruit  of  the  thousands  of 
miles  of  side  hills  I've  had  to  tramp  over  because  of 
Mr.  Brairir's  retirinir  disposition.  Now,  if  he's  Sfot 
the  s})irit  of  a  man  he'll  come  out  from  under  the  bed 
and  tiiiht  me." 

"O,  he'll  come  out— he'll  come  out— never  you 
fear,"  said  Abe,  sardonic  as  usual.  "  He's  o^ot  a  day 
or  two's  leisure  now  to  attend  to  this  business.  A 
hundred  thousand  of  him  will  come  out.  They'll 
swarm  out  o'  them  cedar  thickets  there  like  grass- 
hoppers out  of  a  timothy  field." 

''Boy.s,"  .said  Harry,  returning  after  a  few  min- 
utes'absence,  "the  Colonel  says  we'll  go  into  camp 
right  here,  just  as  we  stand.  Kent,  I'll  take  the  can- 
teens and  hunt  up  water,  if  you  and  Abe  will  break 
some  cedar  boughs  for  the  bed,  and  get  the  wood  to 
cook  supper  with." 

"All  right,"  responded  Kent,  "I'll  go  after  the 
boughs." 

"That  puts  me  in  for  the  wood,"  grumbled  Abe. 
"  And  I  don't  suppose  there's  a  fence  inside  of  a  mile, 
and  if  there  is  there's  not  a  poplar  rail  in  it." 

"And,  Doctor,"  continued  Harry,  flinging  the 
canteens  over  his  shoulder,  "you'll  stay  and  take  a 
cup  of  coffee  and  sleep  with  us  to-night,  won't  you  ? 


THE    BATTLE    OF    STONE    RIVER.  2S3 

The  trains  arc  all  far  behind,  and  the  hospital  wagon 
must  be  miles  away." 

"  Seems  to  me  that  Fve  heard  something  of  the 
impropriety  of  visiting  your  friends  just  about  meal- 
time," said  the  Doctor  quizzically,  ''  but  a  cup  of  cof- 
fee just  now  has  more  charms  for  me  than  rigid  eti- 
quette, so  I'll  thankfully  accept  your  kind  invitation. 
Some  day  Til  reciprocate  with  liberality  in  doses  of 
quinine.'' 

In  less  time  than  that  taken  by  well-appointed 
kitchens  to  furnish  "  Hot  Meals  to  Order"  the  four 
were  sitting  on  their  blankets  around  a  comfortable 
fire  of  rails  and  cedar  logs,  eating  hard  bread  and 
broiled  fat  pork,  and  drinking  strong  black  coffee, 
which  the  magic  of  the  open  air  had  transmuted  into 
delightfully  delicate  and  relishable  viands. 

"You  arc  indebted  to  me,"  said  Dr.  Denslow,  as 
he  finished  the  last  crumb  and  drop  of  his  portion  of 
the  food,  "for  the  accession  to  your  company  at  this 
needful  time,  of  a  tower  of  strength  in  the  person  of 
Lieutenant  Jacob  Alspaugh." 

Abe  groaned  ;  the  Doctor  looked  at  him  with  well- 
feigned  astonishment,  and  continued  : 

"That  gore-hungry  patriot,  as  you  know,  has 
been  home  several  months  on  recruiting  duty,  by  vir- 
tue of  a  certificate  which  he  wheedled  out  of  old 
Moxon.  At  hist,  when  he  couldn't  keep  away  any 
longer,  he  started  back,  but  he  carefully  restrained 
his  natural  impetuosity  in  rushing  to  the  tented  field, 
and  his  journey  from  Sardis  to  Nashville  was  a  fine 
specimen  of  easy  deliberation.     There  was  not  a  sign 


2H4  THE    RED    ACORX. 

of  ungentlemanly  huri'v  in  any  \vdv{  of  it.  He  ciime 
into  my  ward  at  Nashville  with  violent  symptoms  of 
a  half-dozen  speedily  fatal  diseases.  I  was  cruel 
onoiiirli  to  see  a  coincidence  in  this  attack  and  the 
general  marching  orders,  and  I  i)rescrihed  for  his 
ailments  a  thorough  course  of  open  air  exercise. 
To  be  sure  that  my  pres('rii)ti()n  would  he  taken  I  had 
the  Provost-Marshal  interest  himself  in  my  patient's 
case,  and  the  result  was  that  Alspaugh  Joined  the  reg- 
iment, and  so  far  has  found  it  difficult  to  get  away 
from  it.  It's  the  unexpected  that  happens,  the  French 
say,  and  there  is  a  hare  possibilit}'  that  he  may  do 
the  country  some  service  by  the  accidental  discharge 
of  his  duty." 

'•The  possibility  is  too  remote  to  waste  time  con- 
sidering," said  Harry.     . 

They  lay  down  together  upon  a  bed  made  by 
spreading  their  overcoats  and  blankets  upon  the 
springy  cedar  boughs,  and  all  ])ut  Harr}'  were  soon 
fast  asleep.  Though  fully  as  weary  as  they  he  could 
not  sleep  for  hours.  He  was  dominated  b}-  a  feeling 
that  a  crisis  in  his  fate  was  at  hand,  and  as  he  lay  and 
looked  at  the  stars  every  possible  shape  that  that  fate 
could  take  drifted  across  his  mind,  even  as  the  end- 
lessly-varying cloud-shapes  swept — now  languidly, 
now  hurriedly — across  the  domed  .sky  above  him. 
And  as  the  moon  and  the  stars  shone  through  or 
around  each  of  the  clouds,  making  the  lighter  ones 
masses  of  translucent  glory,  and  gilding  the  edges  of 
even  the  blackest  with  silvery  promise,  so  the  thoughts 
of  Rachel  Bond  suffused  with  some  brightness  every 
possible  happening  to  him.     If  he  achieved  anything 


THE    BATTLE    OF   STOxXE    RIVER.  285 

the  achievement  would  have  for  its  chief  value  that  it 
won  her  commendation  ;  if  he  fell,  the  blackness  of 
death  would  be  gilded  by  her  knowledge  that  he  died 
a  brave  man's  death  for  her  sweet  sake. 

He  listened  awhile  to  the  mournful  whinny  of  the 
mules;  to  the  sound  of  artillery  rolling  up  the  reso- 
nant pike;  to  the  crashing  of  newly-arrived  regiments 
through  the  cedars  as  they  made  their  camps  in  line- 
of  battle  ;  to  little  spurts  of  firing  between  the  nervous 
pickets,  and  at  last  fell  asleep  to  dream  that  he  was 
returning  to  Sardis,  maimed  but  honor-crowued,  to 
claim  Rachel  as  his  exultant  bride. 


The  Christmas  forenoon  was  quite  well-auvanced 
before  the  fatigue  of  Rachel  Bond's  long  ride  was 
sufficiently  abated  to  allow  her  to  awaken.     Then  a 
soft  hum  of  voices  impressed  itself  upon  her  drowsy 
senses,  and  she  opened  her  eyes  with  the  idea  that 
there  were  several  persons  in  the  room  en^acred  in 
C()nversation.     But  she  saw  that  there  was  only°Aunt 
Debby,  seated  in  a  low  rocking-chair  by  the  lazily 
burning  fire,  and  reading  aloud  from  a  lar^re  Bible 
that  lay  open  upon  her  knees.     The  residing  was  slow 
and  difficult,  as  of  one  but  little  used  to  it,  and  many 
of  the  longer  words  were  patiently  spelled  out.     But 
this  labored  picking  the  way  along  the  rugged  path 
ot  knowledge,   stumbling  und  halting  at  the  nouns, 
and  ^■erbs,  and  surmounting  the  polysyllables  a  letter 
at  a  time,  seemed  to  give  the  reader  a  deopor  feeliuo- 
of  the  value  and  meaning  of  each  word,  than  is  usu- 


286  THE    RED    ACORN. 

ally  gained  by  the  more  facile  scholar.  As  Rachel 
listened  she  became  aware  that  Aunt  Debby  was  read- 
ing that  wonderful  twelfth  chapter  of  St.  Luke,  rich- 
est of  all  chapters  in  hopes  and  promises  and  loving 
counsel  for  the  lowly  and  oppressed.  She  had  reached 
the  thirty-fifth  verse,  and  read  onward  with  a  passion- 
ate earnestness  and  understanding  thtit  made  every 
word  have  a  new  revelation  to  Rachel  : 


'  Let  your  loins  be  girded  up,  and  your  lights  burning  ; 

"And  ye  yourselves  like  unto  men  that  wait  for  their  Lord 
when  lie  will  return  from  the  wedding  ;  that  when  he  oometh 
and  kuoeketh  they  may  open  unto  him  immediately. 

"Ble^^sed  are  those  servants  whom  the  Lord  when  he  cometh 
shall  find  watching  ;  verily  I  say  unto  you  that  he  shall  gird  him- 
self and  make  them  to  sit  down  to  meat,  and  will  come  forth  and 
serve  them. 

"And  if  ye  shall  come  iri  the  second  watch,  or  come  in  the 
third  watch,  and  shall  find  them  .so,  blessed  are  tho.se  servants. 

"  And  this  know  that  if  the  good  man  of  the  bouse  had  known 
what  the  hour  the  thief  would  come  he  would  have  watched,  and 
not  suffered  his  house  to  be  broken  through. 

"Be  ye  therefore  ready  also,  for  the  Son  of  Man  cometh  at  an 
hour  when  ye  think  not." 

Rachel  stirred  a  little,  and  Aunt  Debby  looked  up 
and  closed  the  book. 

"I'm  afeared  I've  roused  ye  up  too  soon,"  she 
said,  coming  toward  the  bed  with  a  look  of  real  con- 
cern upon  her  sad,  sweet  face.  "I  raylly  didn't  in- 
tend ter.  I  jest  opened  the  book  ter  read  the  prom- 
ise 'bout  our  Father  heedin'  even  a  sparrer's  fall,  an' 
forgot,  an'  read  on  ;  an'  when  I  read.  I  must  read  out 
loud,  ter  git  the  good  of  hit.     Some  folks  pretend 


THE    BATTLE    OF    STONE    RIVER.  287 

they  kin  understand  jest  ez  well  when  they  read  ter 
themselves.     Mebbe  they  kin." 

"O,  no,"  replied  Kachel  cheerfully,  "you  didn't 
disturb  me  in  the  least.  It  was  time  that  I  got  up, 
and  I  was  glad  to  hear  3'ou  read.  I  'm  only  troubled 
with  the  fear  that  I  Ve  overslept  myself,  and  missed 
the  duty  that  I  was  intended  for." 

"Make  yourself  easy  on  thet  'ere  score.  Ye '11 
not  be  needed  to-day,  nor  likely  to-morrow.  Some 
things  hev  come  up  ter  change  Jim's  plans." 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Rachel,  sitting  up  in  the 
bed  and  tossing  back  her  long,  silken  mane  with  a 
single  quick,  masterful  motion.  "I  wished  to  go  im- 
mediately about  what  I  am  expected  to  do.  I  can  do 
anything  better  than  wait." 

Aunt  Debby  came  impulsively  to  the  bedside, 
threw  an  arm  around  Rachel's  neck,  and  kissed  her 
on  the  forehead.  "I  love  ye,  honey,"  she  said  with 
admiring  tenderness.  "Ye  're  sich  ez  all  women 
orter  be.  Ye  '11  make  heroes  of  yer  husband  and  sons. 
Ye  've  yit  ter  I'arn  though,  thet  the  most  of  a  wo- 
man's life,  an'  the  hardest  part  of  hit,  is  ter  wait." 

In  her  fervid  state  of  mind  Rachel  responded  elec- 
trically to  this  loving  advance,  made  at  the  moment 
of  all  others  when  she  felt  most  in  need  of  sympathy 
and  love.  She  put  her  strong  arms  around  Aunt 
Debby,  and  held  her  for  a  moment  close  to  her  heart. 
From  that  moment  the  two  women  became  of  one 
accord.  Womanlike,  they  sought  relief  from  their 
high  tension  in  light,  irrelevant  talk  and  care  for  the 
trifling  details  of  their  surroundings.  Aunt  Debby 
brought  water  and  towels  for  Rachel's  toilet,  and  flut- 


288  THE   RED   ACORX. 

tered  around  her,  solicitous,  helpful  and  motherly, 
and  Rachel,  weary  of  long  companionship  with  men, 
delighted  in  the  restfulness  of  association  once  more 
with  a  gentle,  sweet-minded  woman. 

The  heavy  riding-hnbil  was  entirely  too  cumber- 
some for  indoor  wear,  and  Rachel  put  on  instead  one 
of  Aunt  Dobby's  "linsey  "  gowns,  that  hung  from  a 
peg,  and  laughed  at  the  prim,  demure  mountain  girl 
she  saw  in  the  glass.  After  a  good  breakfast  had  still 
farther  raised  her  spirits  she  ventured  upon  a  little 
pleasantry  about  the  dramatic  possibilities  of  a  young 
lady  who  could  assume  different  characters  with  such 
facility. 

The  day  passed  quietly,  with  Rachel  studying 
such  of  the  Christmas  festivities  as  were  visible  from 
the  window,  and  from  time  to  time  exchanging  per- 
sonal history  with  Aunt  Dobby.  She  learned  that  the 
latter  had  left  her  home  in  the  Rockcastle  Mountains 
with  the  Union  Army  in  the  previous  Spring,  and 
gone  on  to  Chattanooga,  to  assist  her  nephew.  Fortner, 
in  obtaining  the  required  information  when  ^litchell's 
army  advanced  against  that  place  in  the  Summer. 
When  the  arm}'  retreated  to  the  Ohio,  in  September, 
she  had  come  as  far  back  as  Murfreesboro,  and  there 
stopped  to  await  the  army's  return,  which  she  was 
confident  would  not  be  long  delayed. 

"How  brave  and  devoted  you  have  been,"  said 
Rachel  warmly,  as  Aunt  Debby  concluded  her  mod- 
estly-told stor3\      "No  man  could  have  done  better." 

"No,  honey,"  replied  the  elder  woman,  with  her 
wan  face  coloring  faintly,  "I  Ve  done  nothin'  but  my 
plaiil  duty,  ez  I  seed  hit.     I  Ae  done  nothin'  ter  what 


THE   BATTLE    OF   STONE    RIVER.  289 

they  would  've  done  had  n't  they  been  taken  from  me 
afore  they  had  a  chance.  Like  one  who  speaks  ter 
us  in  the  Book,  I  've  been  in  journeyin's  often,  in 
perils  of  robbers,  in  perils  of  mine  own  countrymen, 
in  perils  in  the  city,  in  perils  in  the  wilderness,  in 
weariness  an'  painfulness,  in  watchings  often,  in  hun- 
ger an'  thirst,  in  fastings  often,  in  cold  an'  nakedness, 
but  he  warns  us  not  ter  glory  in  these  things,  but  in 
those  which  consarn  our  infirmities." 
"How  great  should  be  your  reward  ! " 
"  Don't  speak  of  reward.  I  only  want  my  freedom 
when  I  've  'arned  hit  —  the  freedom  ter  leave  an  'arth 
on  which  I  've  been  left  behind,  an'  go  whar  my  hus- 
band an'  son  are  waitin'  fur  me." 

She  rose  and  paced  the  floor,  with  her  face  and 
eyes  shining. 

"Have  you  no  fear  of  death  whatever?"  asked 
Rachel  in  amazement. 

"Fear  of  death  !  Child,  why  should  I  fear  death ? 
Why  should  I  fear  death,  more  than  the  unborn  child 
fears  birth?  Both  are  the  same.  Hit  can't  be  fur  ter 
thet  other  world  whar  they  wait  fur  me.  Hit  is  not 
even  ez  a  journey  ter  the  next  town  —  hit's  only  one 
little  step  through  the  curtain  o'  green  grass  an'  vio- 
lets on  a  sunny  hillside  —  only  one  little^step." 

She  turned  abruptly,  and  going  back  to  her  chair 
by  the  fireside,  seated  herself  in  it,  and  clasping  her  ' 
knees  with  her  hands,  rocked  back  and  forth^and 
sang  in  a  low,  sweet  croon  : 

"  Oh,  the  rapturous,  transporting  scene, 
That  rises  ter  my  sight ; 

T  13 


290  THE    RED    ACORN. 

Sweet  fields  arrayed  in  livin'  green, 
An'  rivers  of  delight. 

"All  o'er  those  wide,  extended  plains 
Shines  one  eternal  day  ; 
Thar  God,  the  Son,  forever  reigns, 
An'  scatters  night  away. 

"No  chillin'  winds  or  poisonous  breath 
Kin  reach  Ihet  healthful  shore  ; 
Sickness  an'  sorrow,  pain  an'  death, 
Are  felt  an'  feared  no  more." 

After  dark  Fortner  came  in.  Both  women  studied 
his  face  eagerly  as  he  walked  up  to  the  fire. 

"Nothin'  yet,  honey,"  he  said  to  Aunt  Debby, 
and  "Nothiir  yet,  Mis.s,"  to  Kacliei.  and  after  a  little 
stay  went  out. 

When  Rachel  awoke  the  next  luorning  the  sky 
was  lowering  darkl}'.  On  going  to  the  window  she 
found  a  most  depressing  change  from  the  scene  of 
bright  merriment  she  had  studied  the  night  before. 
A  chill  Winter  rain  was  falling  with  dreary  persist- 
ence, pattering  on  the  dead  leaves  that  covered  the 
ground,  and  soaking  into  the  sodden  earth.  A  few 
forlorn  little  birds  hopped  wearily  about,  searching  in 
vain  in  the  dry  husks  and  empty  in.sect  shells  for  the 
food  that  had  once  been  so  plentiful  there.  Up  and 
down  the  streets,  as  far  as  she  could  see,  men  in 
squads  or  singly,  under  officers  or  without  organiza- 
tion, plodded  along  dejectedly,  taking  the  cold  drench 
from  above,  and  the  clinging  mud  around  their  feet, 
with  the  dumb,  stolid  discontent  characteristic  of  sea- 
soned veterans.  When  mules  and  horses  went  by 
the}'  seemed  poor  and  shrunken.     They  drew  their 


THE   BATTLE    OF    STONE   RIVER.  291 

limbs  and  bodies  together,  as  if  to  present  the  least 
surface  to  the  inclement  showers,  and  their  labored, 
toilsome  motion  contrasted  painfully  with  their  strong, 
free  movement  on  brighter  days.  Everything  and 
everybody  in  sight  added  something  to  increase  the 
dismalness  of  the  view,  and  as  Rachel  continued  to 
gaze  upon  it  the  "horrors"  took  possession  of  her. 
She  began  to  brood  wretchedl}'  over  her  position  as  a 
spy  inside  the  enemy's  lines,  and  upon  all  the  conse- 
quences of  that  position. 

It  was  late  that  night  wiicn  Fortner  came  in.  As 
he  entered  tlie  two  expectant  women  saw,  by  .the 
ruddy  light  of  the  fire,  that  his  face  was  set  and  his 
eyes  flashing.  He  hung  his  dripping  hat  on  a  peg  in 
the  chimnc}',  and  kicked  the  blazing  logs  with  his  wet 
boots  until  a  flood  of  meteor  sparks  flew  up  the  throat 
of  the  fireplace.  Turning,  he  said,  without  waiting 
to  be  questioned  : 

"  Well,  the  hunt 's  begun  at  last.  Our  folks  come 
out 'n  Nashville  this  mornins:  in  three  ])ifr  armies, 
marchin'  on  different  roads,  an'  they  begun  slash  in'  at 
the  Rebels  wherever  they  could  find  'em.  Thar 's 
been  fouten  at  Triune  an'  Lavergne,  an'  all  along  the 
line.  They  histed  the  Rebels  out  'n  ther  holes  every- 
whar,  an'  druv'  em  back  on  the  jump.  Wagon  load 
arter  wagon  load  o'  Avounded's  comin'  back.  I  come 
in  ahead  of  a  long  train  agwine  ter  the  hospital. 
Haik  I  ye  kin  heah  'em  now." 

The  women  listened. 

They  heard  the  ceaseless  patter  and  swish  of  the 
gloomy  rain  —  the  gusty  sighs  of  the  wind  through 
the   shade -trees'   naked   branches  —  louder  still   the 


292  THE   RED   ACORN. 

rolling  of  heavy  wheels  over  the  rough  streets  ;  and 
all  these  were  torn  and  rent  by  the  shrieks  of  men  in 
agony. 

"  Poor  fellows,''  said  Rachel,  "  how  they  are  suf- 
fering !  *" 

"Think  ruther,"  said  Aunt  Debby  calmly,  "of 
liow  they  Ve  made  others  suffer.  Hit  \s  God's  judg- 
ment on  'em." 

Rachel  turned  to  Fortner.  "  What  will  come 
next  ?  Will  this  end  it  ?  AVill  the  Rebels  fall  back 
and  leave  this  place  ?  " 

.  "Hardl}'.  This 's  on'y  like  the  fust  slap  in  the 
face  in  a  fight  atween  two  big  savage  men,  who  've 
locked  horns  tcr  see  which  is  the  best  man.  Hit's 
on'y  a  sorter  limberin'  the  jints  fur  the  death  rassel." 

"  Yes  ;  and  what  next  ?  " 

"Well,  Rosy  's  started  fur  this  'ere  place,  an'  he's 
bound  ter  come  heah.  Bragg  's  bound  he  sha'n't  come 
heah,  an'  is  gittin'  his  men  back  to  defend  the  town." 

"  What  am  I — what  are  we  to  do  in  the  mean- 
while ?  " 

"Ye 're  ter  do  nothin',  on'y  stay  in  the  house  ez 
close  ez  ye  kin,  an'  wait  tell  the  chance  comes  ter  use 
ye.  Hit  may  be  ter-morrer,  an'  hit  mayn't  be  fur 
some  days.  These  army  moves  are  mouty  unsartin. 
Aunt  Debb}'  '11  take  keer  on  ye,  an'  ve  '11  not  be  in  a 
mite  o'  danger." 

"  But  we  '11  see  you  frequently  ? '' 

"  Ez  offen  ez  I  kin  arrange  hit.  I'm  actin'  ez 
orderly  an'  messenger  'bout  headquarters,  but  I  '11 
come  ter  ye  whenever  I  kin  git  a  chance,  an'  keep  ye 
posted. " 


THE    BATTLE    OF   STONE    KIVER.  293 

This  was  Friday  night.  All  day  Saturday,  as  long 
as  the  light  lasted,  Rachel  stood  at  the  window  and 
watched  with  sinking  heart  the  steady  inflow  of  the 
Rebels  from  the  north.  That  night  she  and  Aunt 
Debby  waited  till  midnight  for  Fortner,  but  he  did 
not  come.  All  day  Sunday  she  stood  at  her  post,  and 
watched  the  unabated  pouring-in  on  the  Nashville 
pike.  Fortner  did  not  come  that  night.  She  was 
downcast,  but  no  shade  disturbed  the  serenity  of  Aunt 
Debby's  sweet  hymning.  So  it  was  again  on  Monday 
and  Tuesday.  The  continually-swarming  multitudes 
weighed  down  her  spirits  like  a  millstone.  She 
seemed  to  be  encompassed  b}-  millions  of  armed  ene- 
mies. They  appeared  more  plentiful  than  the  trees,  or 
the  rocks,  or  the  leaves  even.  They  filled  the  streets  of 
the  little  town  until  it  seemed  impossible  for  another 
one  to  find  standing  room.  Their  cavalry  blackened 
the  faces  of  the  long  ranges  of  hills.  Their  artillery 
and  wagons  streamed  along  the  roads  in  a  never-end- 
ing train.  Their  camp-fires  lighted  up  the  country 
at  night  for  miles,  in  all  directions. 

Just  at  dusk  Tuesday  night  Fortner  came  in,  and 
was  warmly  welcomed. 

"There  are  such  countless  hosts  of  the  Rebels," 
Rachel  said  to  him  after  the  first  greetings  were  over, 
''that  I  quite  despair  of  our  men  being  al)le  to  do 
anything  with  them.  It  seems  impossible  that  there 
can  be  gathered  together  anywhere  else  in  the  world 
as  many  men  as  they  have." 

"I  don't  wonder  ye  think  so,  but  ef  ye'd  been 
whar  I  wuz  to-day  ye'd  think  thet  all  the  world  wuz 
marchin'   round   in   blue    uniforms.     Over   heah  hit 


294  THE    RED    ACORN. 

seems  ez  ef  all  the  cedars  on  the  hills  hed  suddintly 
turned  inter  Rebel  soldiers.  Three  miles  from  heah 
the  blue-coats  are  swarm  in'  thicker'n  bees  in  a  field 
o'  buckwheat." 

''Three  miles  from  here!     Is  our  army  within 
three  miles  of  here  ?  " 

"Hit  sartinly  is,  an*  the  Lord-awfullest  crowd  o' 
men  an'  guns  an'  bosses  thet  ever  tromi)ed  down  the 
grass  o'  this  ere  airth.  Why,  hit  jest  dazed  my  eyes 
ter  look  at  'em.  Come  ter  this  other  winder.  D'ye 
see  thet  furthercst  line  o'  campfires,  'way  on  yander 
hill?  Well,  them's  Union.  Ef  ye  could  see  far  enuf 
ye'd  see  they're  'bout  five  miles  long,  an'  they  look 
purtier'n  the  stars  in  heaven." 

"  But  if  they  are  so  close  the  battle  will  begin  im- 
mediately, will  it  not  ?•" 

"Hit  ain't  likely  ter  be    put  otf  very  long,   but 
thar's  no  tellin'  w^iat'U  happen  in  war,  or  when." 

"  When  is  my  time  to  come  ?" 
"  Thet's  what  I've  come  fur  ter  tell  ye.  Ef  we're 
agwine  ter  be  of  sarvice  ter  the  G\iY''me7it^  we  must 
do  hit  to-night,  fur  most  likely  the  battle'll  begin  in 
the  mornin'.  Hit's  not  jest  the  way  I  intended  ter 
make  use  of  ye,  but  hit  can't  be  helped  now.  I  hev 
information  thet  must  reach  Gineral  Rosencrans  afore 
daybreak.  The  vict'ry  may  depend  on  hit.  Ter 
make  sure  all  on  us  must  start  with  hit,  fur  gittin' 
through  the  lines  is  now  mouty  dangersome,  an'  some- 
body— mebbe  several— is  bound  to  git  cotcht,  mebbe 
wuss.  The  men  I  expected  ter  help  me  are  all  gone. 
I  hain't  nobody  now  bat  ye  an'  Aunt  Debby.     D'ye 


THE   BATTLE   OF   STONE   RIVER.  295 

dar  try  an'  make  yer  way  through  the  lines  to- 
night ? " 

Rachel  thought  a  minute  upon  the  dreadful  possi- 
bilities of  the  venture,  and  then  replied  firmly  : 

"  Yes  I  dare.  I  will  try  anything  that  the  rest  of 
you  will  attempt." 

"Good.  I  knowed  ye'd  talk  thet-a-way.  Now 
we  must  waste  no  time  in  gittin'  started,  fur  God  ony 
knows  what  diffikiltios  we'll  meet  on  the  way,  an' 
Rosencrans  can't  hev  the  information  enny  too  soon. 
Ev'ry  minute  hit's  kep'  away  from  him'll  cost  many 
vallerable  lives — mebbe  help  defeat  the  army." 

"Tell  me  quickly,  then,  what  I  must  do,  that  I 
may  lose  no  time  in  undertaking  it." 

"  Well,  heah's  a  plan  of  the  position  at  sundown 
of  the  Rebels.  Hit's  drawed  out  moughty  roughl\', 
but  h it'll  show  jest  whar  they  all  are,  an'  about  the 
number  there  is  at  each  place.  Hit  begins  on  the 
right,  which  is  south  of  Stone  River,  with  Breckin- 
ridge's men ;  then  across  the  river  is  Withers,  an' 
Cheatham,  an'  Cleburne,  with  McCown's  division  on 
the  left,  an'  Wharton's  cavalry  on  the  flank.  But  the 
thing  o'  most  importance  is  tlict  all  day  long  they've 
been  movin'  men  round  tcr  ther  left,  tcr  fall  on  our 
right  an'  crush  hit.  They're  hid  in  the  cedar  thickets 
over  thar,  an'  they'll  come  out  to-morrow  niornin' 
like  a  million  yellin'  devils,  an'  try  ter  sweep  our 
right  wing  ofien  the  face  o'  the  arth.  D'ye  under- 
stand what  I've  tole  ye  ?  " 

"Yes.  Breckinridge's  division  is  on  their  right, 
and  south  of  Stone  River.     Withers,  Cheatham,  and 


296  THE     RED    ACORN. 

Cleburne  come  next,  on  the  north  of  the  river,  with 
McCown's  division  and  Wharton's  cavahy  on  the 
left,  as  shown  in  the  sketch,  and  they  are  nio\  inu: 
heavy  forces  around  to  their  left,  with  the  evident 
intention  of  falling  overwhelmingly  on  our  right 
early  in  the  morning." 

''Thet'shit.  Thct's  hit.  But  lay  all  the  stress 
ye  kin  on  the  movin'  around  tor  ther  left.  Thar\s 
mo'  mischief  in  thet  than  all  the  rest.  Say  thet  thar's 
20,000  men  gwine  round  thar  this  arternoon  an  eve- 
nin\  Say  thet  thar's  the  biggest  thunder-cloiul  o' 
danger  thet  enny  one  ever  seed.  Say  hit  over  an' 
over,  tell  everybody  understands  hit  an'  gits  ready 
ter  meet  hit.  Tell  hit  till  ye've  made  ev'ry  one  on 
'em  understand  thet  thar  can't  be  no  mistake  about 
hit,  an'  they  must  look  out  fur  heeps  o'  trouble  on 
ther  right.  Tell  hit  ez  ye  never  tole  anything  afore 
in  yer  life.  Tell  hit  ez  ye'd  pray  God  Almighty  fur 
the  life  o'  the  one  thet  ye  love  better  then  all  the 
world  beside.  An'  git  thar  ter  tell  hit — git  thru  the 
Rebel  lines—  ef  ye  love  yer  God  an'  yer  country,  an' 
ye  want  ter  see  the  brave  men  who  are  ter  die  ter- 
morrer  make  their  deaths  count  somethin'  to'ard 
savin'  this  Union.  Hit  may  be  thet  yore  informa- 
tional save  the  army  from  defeat.  Hit  may  be— hit's 
most  likely — thet  hit'll  save  the  lives  o'  thousands  o' 
brave  men  who  love  ther  lives  even  ez  yo  an'  me 
loves  ourn." 

"Trust  me  to  do  all  that  a  devoted  woman  can. 
I  will  get  through  before  daybreak  or  die  in  the  at- 
tempt.    But  how  am  1  to  go  ? " 

"  Hide  this  paper  somewhar.     Aunt  Debby'U  tix  ye 


THE  BATTLE  OF  STONE  RIVER.        297 

up  ez  a  country  gal,  while  Fm  gittin'  yer  mar  sad- 
dled an'  bridled  with  some  common  harness,  instid  o' 
the  fancy  fixings  ye  hed  when  ye  rode  out  heah.  Ef 
ye're  stopt,  ez  ye  likely  will  be,  say  thet  yeVe  been 
ter  town  fur  the  doctor,  an'  some  medicine  fur  yer 
sick  mammy,  an'  are  tryin'  ter  git  back  ter  yer  home 
on  the  south  fork  o'  Overall's  Creek.  Now,  go  an' 
git  ready  ez  quick  ez  the  Lord'U  let  ye." 

As  she  heard  the  mare's  hoofs  in  front  of  the  door, 
Rachel  came  out  with  a  '•  slat-sun-bonnet ''  on  her 
head,  and  a  long,  bhick  calico  riding-skirt  over  her 
linsey  dress.  Fortner  gave  her  attire  an  approving 
nod.  Aunt  Debby  followed  her  with  a  bottle.  "  This 
is  the  medicine  ye've  bin  ter  git  from  Dr.  Thacker 
heah  in  town, "  she  said,  handing  the  vial.  "  Remember 
the  name,  fur  fear  ye  mout  meet  some  one  who  knows 
the  town.  Dr.  Thacker,  who  lives  a  little  piece  offen 
the  square,  an'  gives  big  doses  of  epecac  fur  every- 
thing, from  brakebone  fever  ter  the  itch." 

"Dr.  Thacker,  who  lives  just  off  the  square,"  said 
Rachel.     "  Fll  be  certain  to  remember," 

"Take  this,  too,"  said  Fortner,  handing  her  a 
finely-finished  revolver,  of  rather  large  caliber. 
"  Don't  pull  hit  onless  ye  can't  git  along  without  hit, 
an'  then  make  sho  o'  yer  man.     Salt  him." 

"Good-by — God  bless  ye,"  said  Aunt  Debby, 
taking  Rachel  to  her  heart  in  a  passionate  embrace, 
and  kissing  her  repeatedly.  "God  bless  ye  agin. 
No  one  ever  hed  more  need  o'  His  blessin'  then  we'uns 
will  fur  the  next  few  hours.  Ef  He  does  bless  us  an' 
our  work  we'll  all  be  safe  an'  sound  in  Gineral  Rosen- 
crans'   tent  afore  noon.     But  ef  His  will's  different 


298  THE    RED   ACORN 

we'll  be  by  thet  time  whar  the  Rebels  cease  from 
troublin',  and  the  weaiy  are  at  rest.  I'm  sure  thet  ef 
I  thot  the  Rebels  war  gwine  ter  whip  our  men  I'd 
never  want  ter  see  the  sun  rise  ter-morrer.  Good- 
by;  we're  all  in  the  hands  o'  Him  who  seeth  even  the 
sparrer's  fall." 

Fortner  led  the  mare  a  little  ways,  to  where  he 
could  get  a  good  view,  and  then  said : 

"Thet  second  line  o'  fires  which  ye  see  over  tiiar 
is  our  lines — them  fires  I  mean  which  run  up  inter  the 
woods.  The  fust  line  is  the  Rebels.  Ye'il  go  right 
out  this  road  heah  tell  ye  git  outside  the  town,  an' 
then  turn  ter  yer  right  an'  make  fur  Iho  Stone  River. 
Ford  hit  or  swim  3'^our  mar'  acrost,  an'  make  yer  way 
thru  or  round  the  Rebel  line.  Ef  ye  find  a  good 
road,  an'  everything  favorable  ye  mout  try  ter  make 
yer  way  strait  thru  ef  ye  think  ye  kin  fool  the  gyards 
with  yer  stor3^  Ef  ye're  fearful  ye  can't  then  ride 
beyond  the  lines,  an'  come  inter  ours  thet-a-way. 
Aunt  Debby'll  go  ter  the  other  flank,  an'  try  ter  git 
a-past  Breckinridge's  pickets,  an'  I'll  'tempt  ter  make 
my  May  thru  the  center.  We  may  all  or  none  o'  us 
git  thru.  I  can't  gin  ye  much  advice,  ez  ye'll  hev  ter 
trust  mainly  ter  yerself.  But  remember  all  the  time 
what  hangs  upon  yer  gittin'  the  news  ter  Rosy  afore 
daybreak.  Think  all  the  time  thet  mebbe  ye  kin 
save  the  hull  army,  mebbe  win  the  vict'ry,  sartinly 
save  heeps  o'  Union  lives  an'  fool  the  pizen  Rebels. 
This  is  the  greatest  chance  ye'll  ever  hev  ter  do  good 
in  all  yer  life,  or  a  hundred  more,  ef  ye  could  live 
'em.  Good-by.  Ef  God  Almighty  smiles  on  us  we'll 
meet  ter-morrer  on  yon  side  o'  Stone  River.     Ef  He 


THE   BATTLE   OF   STONE   RIVER.  299 

frowns  we'll  meet  on  yon  side  o'  the  Shinin'  River. 
Good-by."' 

He  released  her  hand  and  her  horse,  and  she  rode 
forward  into  the  darkness.  Her  course  took  her  first 
up  a  main  street,  which  was  crowded  with  wagons, 
ambulances  and  artillery.  Groups  of  men  mingled 
with  these,  and  crowded  upon  the  sidewalks.  When 
she  passed  the  light  ot  a  window  the  men  stared  at 
her,  and  some  few  presumed  upon  her  homely  garb 
so  far  as  to  venture  upon  facetious  and  compliment- 
ary remarks,  aimed  at  securing  a  better  acquaint- 
ance. 

She  made  no  reply,  but  hurried  her  mare  onward, 
as  fast  as  she  could  pick  her  way.  She  soon  passed 
out  of  the  limits  of  the  town  and  was  in  the  country, 
though  she  was  yet  in  the  midst  of  camps,  and  still 
iiad  to  thread  her  way  through  masses  of  men,  horses 
and  wagons  moving  along  the  road. 

The  first  flutter  of  perturbation  at  going  out  into 
the  darkness  and  the  midst  of  armed  men  had  given 
way  to  a  more  composed  feeling.  No  one  had  stop- 
ped her,  or  offered  to,  no  one  had  shown  any  S3'mp- 
tom  of  surprise  at  her  presence  there  at  that  hour. 
She  began  to  hope  that  this  immunity  would  continue 
until  she  had  made  her  way  to  the  Union  lines.  She 
had  left  the  thick  of  the  crowd  behind  some  distance, 
and  was  going  along  at  a  fair  pace,  over  a  clear  road, 
studying  all  the  while  the  line  of  fires  far  to  her 
right,  in  an  attempt  to  discover  a  promising  dark  gap 
in  their  extent. 

She  was  startled  by  a  hand  laid  upon  her  bridle, 
and  a  voice  saying  : 


300  THE    RED   ACORN. 

"Sc\y,  Sis.  who  mout  ye  be,  an'  whar  mout  ye  be 
a-mosyin"  ter  this  time  o'  night?" 

She  saw  a  squad  of  brigandish-looking  stragglers 
at  her  mare's  head. 

"  My  name's  Polly  Briggs.  I  live  on  the  South 
Fork  o'  Overall's  Creek.  I've  done  been  ter  Dr. 
Thacker's  in  Murfreesboro,  fur  some  medicine  fur  my 
sick  mammy,  an'  I'm  on  my  way  back  home,  an'  I'd 
be  much  obleeged  ter  ye,  gontlomon.  cf  ye'd  'low  me 
ter  go  on,  kase  mammy's  powerful  sick,  an'  she's  in 
great  hurry  fur  her  medicine." 

She  said  this  with  a  coolness  and  a  perfect  imita- 
tion of  the  speech  and  manner  of  the  section  that  sur- 
prised herself.  As  she  ended  she  looked  directly  at 
the  squad,  and  inspected  them.  She  saw  she  had 
reason  to  be  alarmed.  .  They  were  those  prowling 
wolves  found  about  all  armies,  to  whom  war  meant 
only  wider  opportunities  for  all  manner  of  villainy 
and  outrage.  An  unprotected  girl  was  a  welcome 
prize  to  them.  It  was  not  death  as  a  spy  she  had  to 
fear,  but  worse.  Now,  if  ever,  she  must  act  deci- 
sively. The  leader  took  his  hand  from  her  bridle,  as 
if  to  place  it  on  her. 

"  Yer  a  powerful  peart  sort  of  a  gal,  an'  ez  purty 
ez  a  fawn.  Yer  mammy  kin  git  'long  without  the 
medicine  a  little  while,  an " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  for  before  his  hand 
could  touch  her  Rachel's  whip  cut  a  deep  wale  across 
his  face,  and  then  it  fell  so  savagely  upon  the  mare's 
flank  that  the  high-spirited  animal  sprang  forward  as 
if  shot  from  a  catapult,  and  was  a   hundred  yards 


THE    BATTLE    OF   STONE    PIVER.  301 

away  before  the  rascals  really  comprehended  what 
had  happened. 

Onward  sped  the  mettled  brute,  so  maddened  by 
the  first  cruel  blow  she  had  ever  received  that  she  re- 
fused to  obey  the  rein,  but  made  her  own  way  by  and 
through  such  objects  as  she  encountered.  AVhen  she 
at  last  calmed  down  the  road  was  clear  and  lonely, 
and  Rachel  began  searching  for  indications  of  a  favor- 
able point  of  approach  to  the  river,  that  hinted  at  a 
bridge  or  a  ford.  While  engaged  in  this  she  heard 
voices  approaching.  A  moment's  listening  to  the 
mingling  of  tones  convinced  her  that  it  was  another 
crowd  of  stragglers,  and  she  obeyed  her  first  impulse, 
which  was  to  leap  her  horse  over  a  low  stone  wall  to 
her  right.  Taking  her  head  again,  the  mare  did  not 
stop  until  she  galloped  down  to  tlie  water's  edge. 

"  I  '11  accept  this  as  luck}^,'"  said  Rachel  to  herself. 
"The  ancients  trusted  more  to  their  horses'  instincts 
than  their  own  perceptions  in  times  of  danger,  and 
I  '11  do  the  same.     I  '11  cross  here." 

She  urged  the  mare  into  the  water.  The  beast 
picked  her  way  among  the  boulders  on  the  bottom 
successfully  for  a  few  minutes.  The  water  rose  to 
Rachel's  feet,  but  that  seemed  its  greatest  depth,  and 
in  a  few  more  yards  she  would  gain  the  opposite 
bank,  when  suddenly  the  mare  stepped  upon  a  slip- 
pery steep,  her  feet  went  from  under  her  instantly, 
and  steed  and  rider  rolled  in  the  sweeping  flood  of 
ice-cold  water.  Rachel's  first  thought  was  that  she 
should  surely  drown,  but  hope  came  back  as  she 
caught  a  limb  swinging  from  a  tree  on  the   bank. 


302  THE    RED    ACORN. 

With  this  she  held  her  head  above  water  until  she 
could  collect  herself  a  little,  and  then  with  great  diflS- 
cLilty  pulled  herself  up  the  muddy,  slippery  bank. 
The  weight  of  her  soaked  clothes  added  greatly  to 
the  difficulty  and  the  fatigue,  and  she  lay  for  some 
little  time  prone  upon  her  face  across  the  furrows  of 
of  a  cotton  field,  before  she  could  stand  erect.  At 
last  she  was  able  to  stand  up,  and  she  relieved  herself 
somewhat  b}^  taking  off  her  calico  riding  skirt  and 
wringing  the  water  from  it.  Her  mare  had  also 
gained  the  bank  near  the  same  point  she  had,  and 
stood  looking  at  her  with  a  world  of  wonder  at  the 
whole  night's  experience  in  her  great  brown  eyes. 

"  Poor  thing,"  said  Rachel  sympathetically.  "  This 
is  only  the  beginning.  Heaven  knows  what  we  won't 
have  to  go  through  witji  before  the  sun  rises."" 

She  tried  to  mount,  but  her  watery  garments  were 
too  much  for  her  agility,  and  with  the  wet  skirts  fet- 
tering her  limbs  she  began  toiling  painfully  over  the 
spong}',  plowed  ground,  in  search  of  a  stump  or  a 
rock.  She  thought  she  saw  many  around  her,  but  on 
approaching  one  after  another  found  they  were  only 
large  cotton  plants,  with  a  boll  or  two  of  ungathcred 
cotton  on  them,  which  tudcd  the  darkness  in  giving 
them  their  deceptive  appearance.  She  prevented 
herself  from  traveling  in  a  circle,  by  remembering 
this  aptitude  of  benighted  travelers,  and  keeping  her 
eye  steadily  fixed  on  a  distant  camp-fire.  When  she 
at  last  came  to  the  edge  of  the  field  she  had  to  lean 
against  the  fence  for  some  minutes  before  she  could 
recover  from  her  fatigue  sufficiently  to  climb  upon  it. 
While  she  sat  for  a  minute   there  she  heard  some 


THE    BATTLE    OF    STONE    RIVER  303 

cocks,  at  a  neighboring  farm-house,  crow  the  turn  of 
night. 

'•  It  is  midnight,"  she  said  feverishly,  "  and  I  have 
only  begun  the  journey.  Now  let  every  nerve  and 
muscle  do  its  utmost." 

She  rode  along  the  fence  until  she  came  to  an 
opening  which  led  into  what  appeared  in  the  darkness 
to  be  another  cotton  held,  but  proved  to  be  a  worn- 
(mt  one,  long  ago  abandoned  to  the  rank-growing 
briars,  which  clung  to  and  tore  her  skirts,  and  seamed 
the  mare's  delicate  skin  with  bleeding  farrows.  The 
flinching  brute  pressed  onward,  in  response  to  her 
mistress's  encouragement,  but  the  progress  was  griev- 
ously slow. 

Presentl}'  Rachel  began  to  see  moving  figures  a 
little  way  ahead  of  her,  and  hear  voices  in  conunand. 
She  realized  that  she  wa.s  approaching  the  forces  mov- 
ing to  the  attack  on  the  Union  right.  There  was 
something  grotesque,  weird,  even  frightful  in  the 
sounds  and  the  aspect  of  the  moving  masses  and  fig- 
ures, but  she  at  last  made  out  that  they  were  batteries, 
regiments  and  mounted  men.  She  decided  that  her 
best  course  was  to  mingle  with  and  move  along  with 
them,  until  she  could  get  a  chance  to  ride  away  in 
advance.  For  hours  that  seemed  weeks  she  remained 
entangled  in  the  slow-moving  mass,  whose  bewilder- 
ing vagaries  of  motion  were  as  trying  to  the  endur- 
ance of  her  steed  as  they  were  exasperating  to  her  own 
impatience.  Occasionally  she  caught  glimpses  of  the 
Union  camp-fires  in  the  distance,  that,  low  and  smol- 
dering, told  of  the  waning  night,  and  she  would  look 
anxiously  over  her  left  shoulder  for  a  hint  of  the 


304  THE    RED     ACORN. 

coming  of  the  dreaded  dawn.     Her  mare  terrified  her 
with  symptoms  of  giving  out. 

At  last  she  saw  an  unmistakable  silvery  break  in 
the  eastern  clouds.  Half-frantic  she  broke  suddenly 
out  of  the  throng  by  an  abrupt  turn  to  the  right,  and 
lashing  her  mare  savageh',  gallo])ed  where  a  graying 
in  the  dense  darkness  showed  an  opening  between  two 
cedar  thickets,  that  led  to  the  picket-fires,  half  a  mile 
away.  The  mare's  hoofs  beat  sonorously  on  the  level 
limestone  floor,  which  there  frequently  rises  through 
the  shallow  soil  and  starves  out  the  cedar. 

"  Halt !  Go  l^ack,"  commanded  a  hoarse  voice  in 
front  of  her,  which  was  accompanied  with  the  clicking 
of  a  gunlock.      ''  Ye  can't  pass  heah." 

''Lemme  pass.  Mister,"  she  pleaded.  "I'm  on'y 
a  gal,  with  medicine  fur  my  mammy,  an'  I'm  power- 
ful an.xlous  ter  git  home." 

"No,  ye  can't  git  out  heah.  Orders  are  strict  ; 
besides,  ef  ye  did  the  Yankees  'd  cotch  ye.  They  're 
jest  out  thar." 

She  became  aware  that  there  were  heavy  lines  of 
men  lying  near,  and  fearing  to  say  another  word,  she 
turned  and  rode  away  to  the  left.  She  became  entan- 
gled with  a  cavalry  company  moving  toward  the 
extreme  Union  right,  and  riding  with  it  several  hun- 
dred yards,  turned  off  into  a  convenient  grove  just 
as  the  light  began  to  be  sufiicient  to  distinguish  her 
from  a  trooper.  She  was  now,  she  was  sure,  outside 
of  the  Rebel  lines,  but  she  had  gone  far  to  the  south, 
where  the  two  lines  were  wide  apart.  The  Union 
fifes  and  drums,  now  sounding  what  seemed  an  unsus- 
picious and  cheerful  reveille,  were  apparently  at  least 


THE   BATTLE    OF   STONE    RIVER.  305 

a  mile  away.  It  was  growing  lighter  rapidly,  and 
every  passing  moment  was  fraught  with  the  weight- 
iest urgency.  She  concentrated  all  her  energies  for  a 
supreme  eflfort,  and  lashed  her  mare  forward  over  the 
nmddy  cotton-field.  The  beast's  hoofs  sank  in  the  loose 
red  loam,  as  if  it  were  quicksand,  and  her  pace  was 
maddeningly  slow.  At  last  Rachel  came  in  sight  of  a 
Union  camp  at  the  edge  of  a  cedar  thicket.  The  arms 
were  stacked,  the  men  were  cooking  Ijreakfast,  and  a 
battery  of  cannon  standing  near  had  no  horses  at- 
tached. 

Rachel  beat  the  poor  mare's  flanks  furiously,  and 
shouted, 

"Turn  out  !  The  Rebels  are  coming  !  The  Rebels 
are  coming  !  " 

Her  warning  came  too  late.  Too  late,  also,  came 
that  of  the  pickets,  who  were  firing  their  guns  and 
rushing  back  to  camp  before  an  awful  wave  of  men 
that  had  rolled  out  of  the  cedars  on  the  other  side  of 
the  cotton  field. 

A  hundred  Ijoisterous  drums  were  now  making  the 
thickets  ring  with  the  "long  roll."  Rachel  saw  the 
men  in  front  of  her  leave  their  cofFee-making,  rush  to 
the  musket-stacks,  seize  their  guns  and  take  their 
places  in  line.  In  another  minute  they  were  ordered 
forward  to  the  fence  in  front  of  them,  upon  which 
they  rested  their  muskets.  Rachel  rode  through  their 
line  and  turned  around  to  look.  The  broad  cotton 
field  was  covered  with  solid  masses  of  Rebels,  rushing 
forward  with  their  peculiar  fierce  yell. 

"Fire!"  shouted  the  Colonel  in  front  of  her.  The  six 
field-pieces  to  her  right  split  her  ears  with  their  crash. 
U  13* 


30G  THE   RED   ACORX. 

A  thousand  nm=;kcts  blazod  out  a  fire  that  withered 
the  first  line  of  the  advancing  foe.  Anoth-jr  crash, 
and  the  Rebels  had  answered  with  musketry  and  artil- 
lery, that  tore  the  cedars  around  her,  sent  the  fence- 
rails  flying  into  the  air,  and  covered  the  ground  with 
blue-coats.  Her  faithful  mare  shied,  cauglit  her  hoof 
in  a  crack  in  the  limestone,  and  fell  with  a  broken 
leg. 

So  began  that  terrible  AVcdncsdav,  December  31, 
18G± 

Bragg's  plan  of  battle  was  very  simple.  Rose- 
crans  had  stretched  out  a  long  thin  wing  through  the 
cedars  to  the  right  of  the  pike.  At  the  pike  it  was 
very  strong,  but  two  miles  away  it  degenerated  into 
scattered  regiments,  unskilfully  disposed.  Bragg 
threw  against  these  tlu-ee  or  four  to  one,  with  all  the 
fury  of  the  Southern  soldier  in  the  onset.  Tlie  line 
was  crumbled,  and  before  noon  crushed  back  to  the 
pike. 

Rachel  disengaged  herself  from  her  fallen  steed, 
and  leaning  against  a  sapling,  watched  the  awful  col- 
lision. She  forgot  the  great  danger  in  the  fascination 
of  the  terrible  spectacle.  She  thouglit  she  had  seen 
men  scale  the  whole  gamut  of  passion,  but  their 
wildest  excesses  were  tamo  and  frothy  beside  this 
ecstacy  of  rage  in  the  fury  of  battle.  The  rustic 
Southerners  whom  she  had  seen  at  ball-play,  the  sim- 
ple-hearted Northerners  whom  she  had  alarmed  at 
their  coSee-making,  were  now  transformed  into  furies 
mad  with  the  delirium  of  slaughter,  and  heedless  of 
their  own  lives  in  the  frenzy  of  taking  those  of  others. 

"You  had  better  run  back,  young  woman,"  said 


THE   BATTLE   OF   STOXE   RIVER.  807 

some  one  touching   her  elbow.    ''The   whole   line's 
going  to  fall  back.     Wo  're  flanked." 

A  disorderly  stream  of  men,  fragments  of  the 
shattered  right,  caught  her  in  its  rush,  and  she  was 
borne  back  to  the  open  fields  lying  along  the  pike. 
There,  as  when  a  turbulent  river  empties  into  a  bay, 
the  force  of  the  current  subsided,  and  she  was  dropped 
like  silt.  The  cowardly  ones,  hatless  and  weaponless, 
ran  off  toward  the  i)ike,  but  the  greater  portion  halted, 
formed  in  line,  called  for  their  comrades  to  join  them, 
and  sent  for  more  cartridges. 

Almost  dropping  with  fatigue,  Rachel  made  her 
way  to  a  pile  of  cracker-boxes  by  an  Osage-orango 
hedge,  on  a  knoll,  and  sat  down.  Some  fragments  of 
hard-bread,  dropped  on  the  trampled  sod  while  rations 
were  being  issued,  lay  around.  She  was  so  hungry 
that  she  picked  up  one  or  two  that  were  hardly  soiled, 
and  nibbled  them. 

The  dreadful  clamor  of  battle  grew  louder  contin- 
ually. The  musketry  had  swollen  into  a  sullen  roar, 
with  the  artillery  pulsating  high  above  it.  Crashing 
vollies  of  hundreds  of  muskets  fired  at  once,  told  of 
new  regiments  joining  in  the  struggle.  Rebel  brig- 
ades raised  piercing  treble  yells  as  they  charged 
across  the  open  fields  against  the  Union  positions. 
The  latter  responded  with  deep-lunged  cheers,  as  they 
hurled  their  assailants  back.  Clouds  of  slowly  curl- 
ing smoke  rose  above  thickets  filled  with  ma(ldened 
men,  firing  into  one  another's  breasts.  Swarms  of 
rabbits  and  flocks  of  birds  dashed  out  in  terror  from 
the  dark  coverts  in  which  they  had  hitherto  found 
security. 


308  THE    RED   ACORN. 

No  gallantry  could  avail  against  such  overwhelming 
numbers  as  assailed  the  Union  right.  The  stream  of 
disorganized  men  from  flowing  back  from  the  thickets 
became  wider  and  swifter  ever}^  minute  ;  every  min- 
ute, too,  the  din  of  the  conflict  came  closer  ;  every 
minute  the  tide  of  battle  rolled  on  to  regiments  lying 
nearer  the  pike. 

A  Surgeon  with  a  squad  of  stretcher-bearers  came 
up  to  where  Rachel  was  sitting. 

*'Pull  down  some  of  those  boxes,  and  fix  a  place 
to  lay  the  Colonel  till  we  can  make  other  arrange- 
ments," said  a  fiimiliar  voice.  Rachel  looked  up,  and 
with  some  difficulty  reconciled  a  grimy-fticed  man  in 
torn  clothes  with  the  trim  Hospital  Surgeon  she  had 
known. 

"Can  that  be  you, -Dr.  Denslow?"  she  said. 

He  had  equal  difficulty  in  recognizing  her. 

"Is  it- possible  that  it  is  you.  Miss  Bond?"  he 
said  in  amazement,  after  she  had  spoken  to  him  again. 
"Yes,  this  is  I,  or  as  much  as  is  left  of  me.  And 
here,"  and  his  voice  trembled,  "is  about  all  that  is 
left  of  the  regiment.  The  rest  are  lying  about  the 
roots  of  those  accursed  cedars,  a  full  mile  from 
here." 

"And  Harry  Glen  — where  is  he  ?  "  she  said,  ris- 
ing hurriedl}'  from  the  boxes  and  passing  along  the 
line  of  stretchers,  scanning  each  face. 

A  new  pain  appeared  in  the  Doctor's  face,  as  he 
watched  her. 

"  You'll  not  find  him  there,"  he  said.  "The  last 
I  saw  of  him  he  was  forming  a  handful  of  the  regi- 
ment  that  were  still  on  their  feet,  to  retake  cannon 


THE    BATTLE   OF   STONE   RIVER.  309 

which  the  Rebels  had  captured.  I  was  starting  off 
with  the  Colonel  here,  w^hen  they  dashed  away." 

"Come,"  he  said,  after  making  some  temporary 
provisions  for  the  comfort  of  his  wounded.  "You 
must  get  away  from  here  as  quickly  as  possible.  I 
fear  the  army  is  badly  defeated,  and  it  may  be  a  rout 
soon.  You  must  get  away  before  the  rush  begins, 
for  then  it  will  be  terrible." 

He  took  her  over  the  pike,  and  across  it  to  where 
some  wagons  were  standing.  As  he  was  about  to  put 
Rachel  in  one  of  these  their  attention  was  arrested 
by  an  officer,  apparently  acting  as  Provost  Marshal, 
draorsrino;  from  behind  a  huo^e  rock  a  Lieutenant  who 
was  skulking  there.  They  were  too  far  away  to  hear 
what  was  said,  but  not  so  far  that  they  could  not  rec- 
ognize the  skulker  as  Lieutenant  Jacob  Alspaugh. 
The  Provost  Marshal  apparently  demanded  the  skulk- 
er's name,  and  wrote  it  in  a  book.  Alspaugh  seemed  to 
give  the  information,  and  accompanied  it  with  a  lugu- 
brious pointing  to  a  bandage  around  his  knee.  The 
Provost  Marshal  stooped  and  took  the  handkerchief 
off,  to  find  that  not  even  the  cloth  of  the  pantaloons 
had  been  injured.  He  contemptuously  tore  the 
straps  from  Alspaugh's  shoulders,  and  left  him. 

"The  rascal's  cowardice  is  like  the  mercy  of  God," 
said  Denslow,  "  for  it  endureth  forever." 

He  put  Rachel  in  the  wagon,  and  ordered  the 
driver  to  start  at  once  for  Nashville  wdth  her.  She 
pressed  his  hand,  as  they  separated,  and  then  sank 
back  on  the  boxes,  overwhelmed  with  fatigue  and 
grief. 


310  THE   RED   ACORX. 

How  had  it  been  faring  all  this  time  with  Harry 
Glen  and  those  with  him  ? 

The  fierce  wave  had  dashed  against  the  regiment 
early  in  the  morning,  and  although  the  first  fire  re- 
ceived from  the  Rebels  made  gaps  in  the  ranks  where 
fifty  men  fell,  it  did  not  recoil  a  step,  but  drove  its 
assailants  back  with  such  slaughter  that  their  dead, 
lying  in  the  open  ground  over  M'hich  they  crossed, 
were  grimly  compared  by  Abe  Bolton  to  "punkins 
layin'  in  a  field  where  the  corn's  been  cut  off." 

Then  the  fight  settled  into  a  murderous  musketry 
duel  across  the  field,  in  which  the  ranks  on  both  sides 
molted  away  like  frost  in  the  sun.  In  a  few  minutes 
all  the  field  ofBcers  were  down,  and  the  only  Captain 
that  remained  untouched  took  command  of  the  regi- 
ment, shouting  to  Harry  Glen  at  the  same  moment  to 
take  command  of  the  two  companies  on  the  right, 
whose  Captains  and  Lieutenants  had  fallen.  Two 
guns  escaping  from  the  crush  at  the  extreme  right, 
had  galloped  down,  and  opened  gallantly  to  assist  the 
regiment.  Almost  instantly  horses  and  men  went 
down  under  the  storm  of  bullets.  An  Aide  broke 
through  the  cedars  behind. 

"Fall  back  — fall  back,  for  God's  sake!"  he 
shouted.  "The  Rebels  have  got  around  the  right, 
and  will  cut  you  off." 

"Fall  back,  bo^^s,"  shouted  the  Captain  in  com- 
mand, "  but  keep  together,  listen  to  orders,  and  load 
as  you  go."  The  same  instant  he  fell  with  a  ball 
through  his  chest, 

"  Sergeant  Glen,  you're  in  command  of  the  regi- 
ment, now,"  shouted  a  dozen  voices. 


THE    BATTLE    OF   STONE    RIVER.  311 

The  Lieutenant  of  the  battery — a  mere  boy — ran 
up  to  Harry.  A  stream  of  blood  on  his  jacket 
matched  its  crimson  trimmings. 

"  Don't  go  off  and  leave  my  guns,  after  I've  lielpcd 
you.  Do  not,  for  the  love  of  Heaven  !  I've  saved 
them  so  far.     Bring  them  off  with  you." 

Harry  looked  inquiringly  around  upon  the  less 
than  one  hundred  survivors,  wlio  gathered  about  him, 
and  had  heard  the  passionate  appeal.  Every  face 
was  set  with  mortal  desperation.  An  Irish  boy  on 
the  left  was  kissing  a  cross  which  he  had  drawn  from 
his  bosom. 

The  tears  which  strong  men  shed  in  wild  fits  of 
rage  were  rolling  down  the  cheeks  of  Edwards,  Bolton 
and  others. 

"  I  don't  want  to  live  always !  "  shouted  Kent  with 
an  oath  ;  "  let's  take  the guns  !  " 

"I  don't  want  no  better  place  to  die  than  right 
hero ! "  echoed  Abe,  still  more  stivagely  profane. 
"  Le's  have  the  guns,  or  sink  into  hell  getting 
'em!" 

The  remnant  of  the  Rebel  regiment  had  broken 
cover  and  rushed  for  the  guns. 

"  Attention  !  "  shouted  Harry.     *'  Fix  baj^onets  !  " 

The  sharp  steel  clashed  on  the  muzzles 

"Forward,  Charge  I" 

For  one  wild  minute  shining  steel  at  arm's  length 
did  its  awful  work.  Tiien  three -score  Rebels  fled 
back  to  then-  leafy  lair,  and  as  many  blue -coats  with- 
drew into  the  cedars,  pulling  the  guns  after  them. 

"Pick  up  the  Lieutenant,  there,  some  of  you  Avho 
can  do  a  little  lifting,"  said  Kent,  as  they  came  to 


312  THE   RED   ACORN. 

where  the  boy-artillerist  lay  dead  "This  prod  in 
my  shoulder's  spoilt  my  lifting  for  some  time.  Lay 
him  on  the  gun  and  we'll  take  him  back  with  us.  He 
deserves  it,  for  he  was  game  clear  through.  Harry, 
that  fellow  that  gave  you  that  beauty-mark  on  the 
temple  with  his  saber  got  his  discharge  from  the 
Rebel  army  just  afterwards,  on  the  point  of  Abe's 
bayonet." 

"  Is  that  so?     Did  Abe  get  struck  at  all  ?  " 

"Only  a  whack  over  the  nose  with  the  butt  of  a 
gun,  which  will  doubtless  improve  his  looks.  Any 
change  would." 

"Guess  Ave  can  go  back  now  with  some  peace  and 
comfort,"  said  Abe,  coming  up,  and  alluding  to  the 
cessation  of  the  firing  in  their  front.  "That  last 
round  took  all  the  figlit  out  of  them  hell-hounds 
across  the  field." 

"Some  of  you  had  better  go  over  to  the  camp 
there  and  get  our  axes.  We'll  have  to  cut  a  road 
through  the  cedars  if  we  take  these  guns  off,"  said 
Harry,  tieing  a  handkerchief  around  the  gaping  saber 
wound  in  his  temple.  "The  rest  of  j^ou  get  around 
to  the  right,  and  keep  a  sharp  look  out  for  the 
flank." 

So  they  worked  their  way  back,  and  a  little  after 
noon  came  to  the  open  fields  by  the  pike. 


As  the  wagon  rolled  slowly  down  the  pike  toward 
Nashville  Rachel,  in  spite  of  her  anxiety,  fell  asleep. 
Some  hours  later  she  was  awakened  by  the  driver 
.shaking  her  rudelv. 


THE    BATTLE    OF   STONE    RIVER.  313 

"Wake   up!^'    he    shouted,    -  ef  ye   vahie   yer 

hfe  !  " 

"  Where  are  we  ?  "  she  asked,  rubbing  her  eyes. 

"At  Stewart's  Creek,"  answered  the  driver,  "an' 
all  o'  Wheeler's  cavalry  are  out  thar'  in  '  them 
woods. " 

She  looked  out.  She  could  see  some  miles  ahead 
of  her,  and  as  far  as  she  could  see  the  road  was  filled 
with  wagons  moving  toward  Nashville.  A  sharp 
spurt  of  firing  on  the  left  attracted  her  attention,  and 
she  saw  a  long  wave  of  horsemen  ride  out  of  the 
woods,  and  charge  the  wagon-guards,  who  made  a 
sharp  resistance,  but  at  length  fled  before  overwhelm- 
ing numbers.  The  teamsters,  at  the  first  sight  of  the 
formidable  line,  began  cutting  their  wheel-mules 
loose,  and  escaping  upon  them.  Rachel's  teamster 
followed  their  example. 

"The  ofi'-mule's  unhitcht  ;  jump  on  him,  an'  skip," 
he  shouted  to  her  as  he  vanished  up  the  pike. 

The  Rebels  were  shooting  down  the  mules  and 
such  teamsters  as  remained.  Some  dismounted,  and 
with  the  axes  each  wagon  carried,  chopped  the  spokes 
until  the  wagon  fell,  while  others  ran  along  and 
started  fires  in  each.  In  a  little  while  five  hundred 
wagons  loaded  with  rations,  clothing,  ammunition  and 
stores  were  blazing  furiously.  Their  work  done,  the 
cavalry  rode  ofi"  toward  Nashville  in  search  of  other 
trains. 

Rachel  leaped  from  the  wagon,  before  the  Rebels 
approached,  and  took  refuge  behind  a  large  tree, 
whence  she  saw  her  wagon  share  the  fate  of  the  rest' 
M'hen  the  eavalrv  disappeared,  she  came  out  ao-ain 


314  THE   EED   ACORN. 

into  the  road  and  v/alked  slowly  np  it,  debating  what 
she  could  do.  She  was  rejoiced  to  meet  her  teamster 
returning.  He  had  viewed  the  occurrence  from  a 
prudent  distance,  and  beins:  kindly-natured  had  de- 
cided to  return  to  her  help,  as  soon  as  it  could  be 
done  without  risk. 

He  told  her  that  there  was  a  wagon  np  the  pike  a 
little  ways  with  a  woman  in  it,  to  which  he  would 
conduct  her,  and  the}^  would  go  back  to  the  army  in 
front  of  Murfreesboro. 

"It  seems  a  case  of  'twixt  the  devil  and  the  deep 
sea."  he  said,  despairingly.  "  At  any  rate  we  can't 
stay  out  here,  and  m}^  experience  is  that  it  is  always 
safest  where  there  is  the  biggest  crowd." 

The}^  found  the  wagon  with  the  woman  in  it.  Its 
driver  had  bolted  irrevocably,  so  Rachel's  friend  as- 
sumed the  reins.  It  was  slow  work  making  their  way 
back  through  the  confused  mass,  but  Rachel  was 
lucky  enough  to  sleep  through  most  of  it.  When  she 
awoke  the  next  morning  the  wagon  was  still  on  the 
pike,  but  in  the  center  of  the  army,  which  filled  all 
the  open  space  round-a  bout. 

Everywhere  were  evidences  of  the  terrible  work 
of  the  day  before,  and  of  preparations  for  renewing 
it.  The  soldiers,  utterly  exhausted  by  the  previous 
day's  frightful  strain,  lay  around  on  the  naked  ground, 
sleeping,  or  in  a  half-waking  torpor. 

An  officer  rode  up  to  the  wagon.  "There  seems 
to  be  some  flour  on  this  wagon,"  said  the  voice  of  Dr. 
Denslow.  "Well,  that  may  stay  the  boys'  stomachs 
until  we  can  get  something  better.  Go  on  a  little 
ways,  driver." 


THE   BATTLE   OF   STONE    RIVER.  315' 

"0,  Doctor  Denslow,"  called  out  Rachel,  as  the 
wagon  stopped  again,  "  what  is  the  news  ?  " 

"You  here  again?"  said  the  Doctor,  recognizing 
the  voice  :  "well  that  is  good  news.  When  I  heard 
about  Wheeler's  raid  on  our  trains  I  was  terribly 
alarmed  as  to  your  fate.     This  relieves  me  much." 

"But  how  about  the  army?  " 

"Well  it  seems  to  have  been  a  case  of  hammer 
and  anvil  yesterday,  in  which  both  suffered  pretty 
badly,  but  the  hammer  got  much  the  worst  of  it.  We 
are  in  good  shape  now  to  give  them  some  more,  if 
they  want  it,  which  so  far  they  have  not  indicated 
veiy  strongly.  Here,  Sergeant  Glen,  is  a  couple  bar- 
rels of  tlour,  which  you  can  take  to  issue  out  to  your 
regiment." 

Had  not  the  name  been  called  Rachel  could  never 
have  recognized  her  former  elegant  lover  in  the  stal- 
wart  man  with  tattered  uniform,  swollen  face,  and 
head  wrapped  in  a  bloody  bandage,  Avho  came  to  the 
wagon  with  a  squad  to  receive  the  flour. 

A  tumult  of  emotions  swept  over  her,  but  supe- 
rior to  them  all  was  the  feminine  feeling  that  she 
could  not  endure  to  have  Harry  see  her  in  her  pres- 
ent unprepossessing  plight. 

"Don't  mention  my  name  before  those  men,"  she 
said  to  Dr.  Denslow,  when  he  came  near  again. 

"Very  good,"  he  answered.  "Sit  still  in  the 
wagon,  and  nobody  will  see  3'ou.  I  will  have  the 
wagon  drive  over  to  the  hospital  presently,  with  the 
remainder  of  the  flour,  and  you  can  go  along." 

All  the  old  love  seemed  to  have  been  out  at  com- 
pound interest,  from  the  increment  that  came  back 


31  fi  THE   RED   ACORN. 

to  her  at  the  sound  of  Harry  Glen's  voice,  now  so 
much  deeper,  fuller  and  more  masterful  than  in  the 
fastidious  days  of  yore.  She  lifted  the  smallest  cor- 
ner of  the  wagon-cover  and  looked  out.  The  barrel 
heads  had  been  beaten  in  with  stones,  and  a  large  cup- 
ful of  flour  issued  to  each  of  the  hungry  men.  They 
had  mixed  it  up  into  dough  with  water  from  the 
ditch,  and  were  baking  it  before  the  fire  on  large  flat 
stones,  which  abounded  in  the  vicinity. 

"I'll  mix  up  enough  for  all  three  of  us  on  this 
board,"  she  heard  Harry  sa}^  to  Abe  and  Kent. 
"With  your  game  arm,  Kent,  and  Abe's  battered 
eyes,  your  cooking  skill's  about  gone.  You  ought  to 
both  of  3'ou  go  to  the  hospital.  You  can't  do  any 
good,  and  why  expose  yourself  for  nothing  ?  I've  a 
mind  to  use  my  authority  as  temporary  commander 
of  the  regiment  and  send  you  to  the  hospital  under 
guard." 

"You  try  it  if  you  dare,  after  my  saAdng  your 
life  yesterday,"  said  Abe.  "I  can  see  well  enough 
yet  to  shoot  toward  the  Rebels,  and  that's  all  that's 
necessary." 

"I  enlisted  for  the  war,"  said  Kent,  "and  I'm 
going  to  stay  till  peace  is  declared.  I  went  into  this 
fight  to  see  it  through,  and  I'm  going  to  stay  until  we 
whip  them  if  there's  a  piece  of  me  left  that  can  wig- 
gle. Bragg's  got  to  acknowledge  that  I'm  the  best 
man  before  I'll  ever  let  up  on  him." 

Rachel  longed  to  leap  out  of  the  wagon,  and  do 
the  bread-making  for  these  clumsy  fellows,  but  pride 
would  not  consent. 

The  dough  was  browning  slowly  on  the  hot  stones, 


THE   BATTLE   OF   STONE    RIVER.  317 

but  not  yet  nearly  done,  when  the  spiteful  spirts  of 
firing  out  in  front  suddenly  burst  into  a  roar,  with  a 
crash  of  artillery.     A  bugle  sounded  near. 

"Fall  in,  boys,"  shouted  Harry,  springing  to  his 
feet,  and  tearing  off  the  flakes  of  dough,  which  he 
hastily  divided  with  his  comrades.  "Right  dress. 
Right  face,  forward,  file  right — march  ! 

"  If  there  is  anything  that  1  despise,  it's  disturb- 
ing a  gentleman  at  his  meals,"  said  Kent,  giving  the 
fire  a  spiteful  kick,  as  he  tucked  the  bread  under  his 
lame  arm,  took  his  musket  in  his  other  hand,  and 
started  ofi"  in  the  rear  of  the  regiment,  accompanied 
by  the  purblind  Abe. 

Rachel's  heart  sank,  as  she  saw  them  move  off, 
but  it  rose  again  when  the  firing  died  down  as  sud- 
denly as  it  had  flamed  up. 

Soon  Dr.  Denslow  took  the  wagon  off  to  a  cabin 
on  a  high  bank  of  Stone  River,  which  he  was  using 
as  a  hospital. 

She  called  some  question  to  him,  as  he  turned 
away  to  direct  the  preparation  of  the  flour  into  food 
for  his  patients,  when  some  one  cried  out  from  the 
interior  of  the  cabin  : 

"Rachel  Bond!  Is  that  you?  Come  in  heah, 
honey." 

She  entered,  and  found  Aunt  Debby  lying  on  the 
rude  bed  of  the  former  inhabitants  of  the  cabin. 

"  O  my  love— my  darling — my  honey,  is  this  you?  " 
said  the  elderly  woman,  with  streaming  eyes,  reach- 
ing out  her  thin  arms  to  take  Rachel  to  her  heart. 
"I  never  expected  ter  see  ye  ag'in!  But  God  is 
good." 


318  THE   RED   ACORN. 

"Aunt  Debby,  is  it  possible?  Are  you  hurt, 
dear  ? " 

"No,  not  hurt,  child  ;  ony  killed,"  she  answered 
with  a  sweet  radiance  on  her  face. 

"Killed?     It  is  not  possible." 

"Yes,  honey,  it  is  possible.  It  is  true.  The  gates 
open  for  me  at  last. " 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"I  got  through  Breckenridge's  lines  all  right,  an' 
reached  the  river,  but  thar  was  a  picket  thar,  hid  be- 
hind a  tree,  and  ez  he  heered  my  boss's  feet  splash  in 
the  ford,  he  shot  me  through  the  back.  An'  I  didn't 
get  through  in  time,"  she  added,  with  the  first  shade 
of  melancholy  that  had  yet  appeared  in  her  face. 
"  Did  ijouf  " 

"No,  I  was  too  hite,  too." 

"An'  Jim  must've  been,  too.  Hev  ye  seed  him 
any  whar  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Rachel,  unable  to  restrain  her  tears. 

"Now,  honey,  don't  cry  fur ^ me  —  don't,"  said 
Aunt  Debby,  pulling  the  young  face  down  to  where 
she  could  kiss  it.  "Hit's  jest  ez  I  want  hit.  On'y 
let  me  know  thet  Bragg  is  whipt,  an'  I  die  happy." 

All  day  Thursday  the  two  bruised  armies  lay  and 
confronted  each  other,  as  two  bulldogs,  which  have 
torn  and  mangled  one  another,  will  stop  for  a  few 
minutes,  to  lick  their  hurts  and  glare  their  hatred, 
while  they  regain  breath  to  carry  on  the  fight. 

Frida}^  morning  it  was  the  same,  but  there  was  a 
showing  of  teeth  and  a  rising  fierceness  as  the  day 
grew  okler,  which  was  very  portentous. 

While  standing  at  the  door  of  the  cabin  Rachel 


THE   BATTLE   OF   STONE   RIVER.  319 

had  seen  Harry  Glen  march  down  the  bank  at  the 
head  of  the  regiment,  and  cross  the  ford  to  the  hights 
in  front  of  Breckenridge.  She  picked  up  a  field-glass 
that  lay  on  a  shelf  near,  and  followed  the  movements 
of  the  force  the  regiment  had  joined. 

"  What  d'  ye  see,  honey  ?  "  called  out  Aunt  Debby. 
She  was  becoming  very  fearful  that  she  would  die  be- 
fore the  victory  was  won. 

"Our  people,"  answered  Rachel,  "seem  to  be 
concentrating  in  front  of  Breckenridge.  There  must 
be  a  division  over  there.  Breckenridge  sees  it,  and 
his  cannon  are  firing  at  our  men.  He  is  bringing  men 
up  at  the  double  quick."  She  stopped,  for  a  spasm 
of  fear  in  regard  to  Harry  choked  her. 

"  Go  on,  honey.     What  are  they  doing  now  ?  " 

"  Our  men  have  formed  a  long  line,  reaching  from 
the  river  up  to  the  woods.  They  begin  to  march  for- 
ward. Breckenridge  opens  more  guns.  They  cut 
lanes  through  them.  Now  the  infantry  begins  firing. 
A  cloud  of  smoke  settles  down  and  hides  both  sides. 
I  can  see  no  more.  O  my  God,  our  men  are  running. 
The  whole  line  comes  back  out  of  the  smoke,  with 
men  dropping  at  every  step.  If  Harry  were  only 
safely  out  of  there,  I'd  give  my  life." 

Aunt  Debby  groaned.  "  Look  again,  honey,"  she 
said  after  a  moment 's  pause. 

"It's  worse  than  ever.  Breckenridge's  men  are 
swarming  out  of  their  works.  There  seenjs  to  be  a 
myriad  of  them.  They  cover  the  whole  hillside 
until  I  can  not  see  the  ground.  They  yell  like  de- 
mons, and  drive  our  men  down  into  the  river.  They 
follow  them  to  the  water's  edge  and  shoot  them  down 


320  THE    RED    ACORN. 

in  the  stream.  Ah,  there  goes  a  battery  on  the  gallop 
to  the  hill  in  front  of  us.  It  has  opened  on  the  Reb- 
els, and  its  shells  dig  great  holes  in  the  black  masses, 
but  the  Rebels  still  come  on.  There  goes  another 
battery  on  the  gallop.  It  has  opened.  There  is  an- 
other. Still  another.  They  are  galloping  over  here 
from  every  direction."" 

"  Glory  !  "  shouted  Aunt  Debby. 

"There  's  a  fringe  of  trees  near  the  water's  edge, 
whose  tops  reach  nearly  to  the  top  of  the  hill.  The 
cannon  shots  tear  the  branches  off  and  dash  down 
great  ranks  of  Rebels  with  them. " 

"  The  arth  rocks  as  when  He  lays  his  finger  upon 
hit,"  said  Aunt  Debby. 

The  ground  was  trembling  under  the  explosion 
of  the  fifty-eight  pieces  of  artillerj'  w^hich  Rosecrans 
hastily  massed  at  four  o'clock  Friday  afternoon,  for 
the  relief  of  his  overpowered  left.  "What's  them 
that  go  '  boo-woo-woo,'  like  great  big  dogs  barkin'  ? '' 

"Those  are  John  Mendenhall's  big  Napoleons," 
said  a  wounded  artillery  oflScer.  "  Go  on.  Miss. 
What  now  ?  " 

"  The  Rebels  have  stopped  coming  on.  They  are 
apparently  firing  back.  The  shells  and  the  limbs  of 
the  trees  still  break  their  lines  and  tear  them  to  pieces. 
Now  our  men  dash  across  the  river  again,  and  begin 
a  musketry  fire  that  mows  them  down.  They  start 
to  run,  and  our  men  charge  after  them,  cheering  as 
they  run.  Our  men  have  taken  their  cannon  away 
from  them.  The  Rebels  are  running  for  life  to  get 
inside  their  works.  The  hillside  is  dotted  with  those 
who  have  fallen,  and  there  are  rows  of  them  lying 


THE    BATTLE    OF   STONE    RIVER.  321 

near  the  water.  Now  everything  is  quieting  down 
again. " 

"Glory  ter  God!  for  He  has  at  last  given  the 
enemy  inter  our  hands.  Come  and  kiss  me,  honey, 
an'  say  good-by." 

From  the  throats  of  twenty-five  thousand  excited 
spectators  of  the  destruction  of  Breckenridge's  divi- 
sion rose  cheers  of  triumph  that  echoed  to  the  clouds. 

"  What  sweet  music  that  is  !  "  said  Aunt  Debby, 
half  unclosing  her  eyes.  "God  bless  ye,  honey. 
Good-by." 

The  gentle  eyes  closed  forever. 

Late  in  the  evening  Dr.  Denslow's  stretcher  corps 
brought  in  Harry  Glen,  who  had  fallen  in  the  last 
charge  with  a  flesh  wound  in  the  leg.  Until  he  woke 
the  next  morning  to  find  her  sitting  by  his  bedside, 
Harry  thought  he  had  been  dreaming  all  the  time  that 
Rachel  Bond  had  come  to  him,  dressed  in  quaint 
country  garb,  and  loosed  with  gentle,  painless  fingers 
the  stifi",  blood-encrusted  bandage  about  his  head,  and 
replaced  it  with  something  that  soothed  and  eased  his 
fevered  temples. 

"I  have  very  good  news  for  you,"  she  said,  later 
in  the  day.  "Kent  Edwards  says  that  you  are  pro- 
moted to  Captain,  by  special  orders,  for  '  Conspicuous 
gallantry  on  the  battle-field  of  Stone  River,'" 

"  And  when  are  we  to  be  married  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Just  as  soon  as  you  are  able  to  travel  back  to 
Sardis." 

They  looked  up  and  saw  Dr.  Denslow  standing 
beside  them.  A  stunned  look  on  his  face  indicated 
that  he  had  heard  and  understood  all.  This  speedily 
V 


322  THE    RED    ACORN. 

gave  away  to  his  accustomed  expression  of  serene 
philosophy. 

"Forget  me,  except  as  a  friend,"  he  said.  "It  is 
better  as  it  is  for  you,  Harry,  and  certainly  better  for 
her.  Possibly  it  is  better  for  " — with  a  little  gasp — 
"  me.  The  sweets  of  love  are  not  for  me.  They  are 
irrational,  and  irrational  things  are  carefully  elim- 
inated from  my  scheme  of  life." 

Towards  evening  Fortner  came  in  with  the  news 
"Thet  ole  Bragg  picked  up  his  traps  and  skipped  out 
fur  TuUahoma,  ter  nuss  his  hurts,  leavin'  his  wounded 
and  lots  o'  stores  in  our  hands." 

So  was  gained  the  great  victory  of  Stone  River. 

THE   END. 


Hammock  Series,  No.  3. 

"Off  the  Rocks." 

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on  receipt  of  price. 

HENRY  A.  SUMNER  &  COMPANY,  Publishers, 

205  Wabash  Ave.,  CHICAGO. 


"MAPLE    RANGE." 

AK  HISTORICAL  KOMANCP.  OF  THE  WESTERN  BOKDEK, 

By  EDNA  A.  BARNARD 

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choicest  culture.  The  piquant  coquettishness  of  'Lizbeth 
Harkness  is  in  strong  contrast  with  the  bright  yet  wo- 
manly Mrs.  Ellis,  who'broke  away  from  Indian  bondage  and 
marched  till  she  was  "quoted  at  par."  Another  contrast 
is  afforded  in  the  sterling  manliness  of  Robert  ]\Iaynard 
and  the  villainy  of  George  Langmere.  The  wholesome 
humor  that  enlivens,  the  vivid  portraj'al  of  individual 
traits,  and  the  fidelity  to  nature  in  coloring,  preserves 
the  narrative  from  the  monotony  and  commonplace  not 
always  avoided  in  ethical  fiction.  We  heartily  commend 
the  book  to  our  readers  as  combining  a  story  of  exceed- 
ing power  and  interest,  a  freshness  of  plot,  a  tenderness 
of  sympathy  and  historical  richness  that  gives  solid  value; 
a  book  that,  when  begun,  will  be  read  through  with  deri- 
vations  of  delight  and  wholesome  instruction." 


By  mail,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price,— $1.25. 

HENRY  A.  SUMNER  &  COMPANY,  Publishers, 

205  Wabash  Ave..  CHICAGO. 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
739 


